We Need to Talk About Joffrey
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: Modern A/U. The Starks are a well off, honest family from the north part of the city. Joffrey is a 16 year old loner with a dark side. Chaos erupts after Joffrey begins dating the Starks' eldest daughter, sweet and shy Sansa. Joffrey's cruelty increases when he inherits his father's company. [YA novel style mixed w crime drama, romance and thriller. Joff/Sansa. Joff POV.]
1. The First Date

**Warnings:** Teen partying, foul language, violence, disturbing content, sexual content

**A/N: **Title obviously grabbed from _We Need to Talk About Kevin _(by Lionel Shriver) but this story is not based around that; I merely liked the idea of the title, esp. for a story about another psychopathic young boy and his relationship to his mother (ah, Joffrey and Cersei). This fic is based entirely on _Game of Thrones _and is a modernized version of the events between Joffrey and Sansa. I don't own any of the characters nor do I own any of names contained in the references made to popular culture. The setting and styling of the characters is my own doing, merely for my own enjoyment. I hope you also enjoy it.

* * *

**WE NEED**

**to**

**TALK ABOUT**

**JOFFREY**

_a modern re-telling of Joffrey and Sansa's relationship_

…

* * *

**Setting:** _a moderately sized coastal town in the United States that is fiscally governed by the Lannister family, who own Lannister Hotels, a ritzy global chain. Patriarch Tywin Lannister has left the responsibilities to his daughter Cersei (a shrewd businesswoman) and stepson Jaime (a cop) while he enjoys his retirement in Costa Rica. Husband to the hotel heiress is Robert Baratheon, president of Baratheon Manufacturing. Unbeknownst to Robert, Jaime and Cersei have strong ties to the underground crime rings in the area. The Starks, a frugal but wealthy family, are their allies on the north side of town. The Stark family is headed by Ned Stark, chief of police on the North side, and his wife ex-police detective Cat Stark. The families have been friends since Ned and Robert were boys and despite their social and moral differences, it seems their bond will never break. That is, until Ned uncovers the harsh truth about Lannister Hotels after his eldest daughter Sansa begins dating Robert's deranged son Joffrey. . ._

* * *

Part I.

_October 30, 2006._

* * *

Joffrey Baratheon emerges from his second shower of the day, momentarily blinded by the thick steam that rises in the bathroom, fogging up the large three-way mirror and giving the black marble counter tops a stony look. He hits the fan and wraps the thick crimson towel tighter around his waist as he brushes his teeth and stares at his smoggy reflection, waiting for a clearer image of himself to materialize. The steamy mirror finally lets up and allows a medium sized circle to clear in its center and he admires his reflection, happy to see the acne that had taken residence on his narrow jaw has almost cleared. Mom had gone out immediately to the mall to purchase the most expensive medicine she could when he had thrown a fit over the state of his face last weekend, and she'd completely understood. Dad, on the other hand, had declared him dramatic and told him to get over it. This caused a fight between his parents, as per usual. Joffrey normally would have tried to appease his dad but he couldn't stand to see his normally smooth, shaven skin look so uneven especially not this week, not when he has to go out with a girl.

Of course, Sansa's not really a special girl. She's the daughter of Dad's best friend from childhood, Ned Stark. Dad and Ned did everything together: sports, enlisting in the coast guard, volunteering as firefighters. Of course, that was before Ned became chief of police and Dad started up Baratheon Manufacturing. They're too busy to see each other as much, which suits Joffrey fine. Aside from being a pig, Ned is a boring, humorless voice of reason, and Joffrey doesn't see what Dad gets out of him. They used to push for the kids to get together, but Mom said Joffrey had no obligation to the Starks so Joffrey hasn't seen Sansa since the last Christmas get-together two years ago. All Joffrey remembers is her bright red hair and goofy grin. _Jesus, I hope she's grown some tits at least, _he thinks tragically. Already beginning to sulk, he starts his routine of applying various deodorants, hair products and cologne.

Joffrey does not date much. It isn't that girls are not interested in him; they are drawn to his chin-length, perfectly styled blond locks and his straight teeth but they never last long. He's never too invested in romance. Joffrey likes girls well enough. He's not a faggot like his uncle Renly, he'd just rather be alone, surfing the Internet for shocksploitation films or videos of executions, or playing one of his many RPG video games. He's taken out a few girls, sure, and has suffered through stilted conversations in order to end up in the backseat of his immaculate sports car or in the last row at the movies. It's exciting at first to put his lips on theirs with his hands in their soft hair or inside their blouses. After a while though, it's always the same thing. His mind wanders, and while the girl is sighing out into his open mouth or planting soft kisses on his cheek, Joffrey can't take his mind off the fact that it isn't enough.

He wishes dating was like the game he plays on the Internet, the one where there's a beautiful, busty black-haired girl strung up in ropes and wearing lacy lingerie. She's suspended in midair and she whimpers periodically if the game sits idle. Near her swinging feet is a toolbox filled with different weapons you can use to play with her. There's a whip, a mallet, a long, silver chain, and if you earn enough points you can unlock the electric chainsaw. With cheats, you can remove her clothing so that she's completely naked, hanging there with her frightened eyes wide, nipples perky and genitals shaved clean off. _"No, no, no, please no," _she screams when you torture her. _"No, master. Please!"_ Joffrey likes the feeling of control, and the animation is pretty high quality, too. Still, it would be better if it were real.

He hasn't been on a date in some time as he's been keeping to himself at school this year. Since he didn't measure up for the football team, he's been slightly down. He knows Dad is disappointed in him. After all, Dad was _Robert Baratheon, football star, _but how does he expect Joffrey to live up to that? Mom said she thought the coach was unfair; she says his old habit of lighting fires on the middle school playground shouldn't have been held against him, but Joffrey doesn't care about the reasoning. He's set on proving himself to Dad, no matter what it takes. And if Dad wants him to take Sansa Stark out, he'll suck it up and do it. Joffrey's therapist didn't agree with the decision, but Dad did not care.

Joffrey was referred to counseling when his art teacher complained to the principal about his final project last year. She did not see the artistic value in cutting out models from magazine ads and inking in nooses around their necks, blacking out their eyes, and coloring their teeth splotchy red. He's been in therapy since mid-June. Sometimes he meets with the doctor alone and other times he's joined by his parents and siblings. Dad hates going, Mom gets too sensitive and Joffrey's siblings are as embarrassingly babyish as ever. It's a nightmare.

In the last family session, they discussed whether Joffrey should pursue any type of romantic relationship. Dad thinks this will be good for him because "normal" guys have girlfriends. However, Joffrey's therapist is concerned about Joffrey's ability to form "healthy, long-lasting relationships with women". Mom got irate about that and fought with the therapist for a good part of the hour, saying he had a perfectly good relationship to her and to leave him alone. Joffrey's therapist had asked his brother and sister how things had been at home lately. Joffrey had pulled his hood over his bangs and had settled back in his chair, staring Tommen and Myrcella down, daring them to speak. Of course, they didn't. They knew what would happen if they ever did.

Getting ready to go out is soothing for Joffrey and he is feeling better by the time he has left the bathroom. Even though he is not looking forward to tonight, he is obsessed with appearance. Looking good is his forte. He likes when his mom irons his clothes, likes the smell of the clean linen and the feel of the soft tees, crisp dress shirts and low-slung black dress pants. He has thirty pairs of the very best designer shoes in bright colors that he alternates daily to accompany each well-chosen outfit he lays out the night before. He cares how he looks and having the newest clothing item brings him comfort. He derives the same level of reassurance from arranging his horror movies into alphabetical order and by cleaning his collection of swords, wiping the dust off with a velvety rag until they luster on their display on his bedroom wall. When Dad is not home, Joffrey unlocks his gun safe, admiring the shiny hunting weapons and cleaning them with tender care. _"These guns are always in perfect condition," _Dad often says, and Joffrey is pleased.

Tonight, he selects a red pair of cross-trainers from their crisp box in his walk-in closet to accompany his skinny jeans and button up shirt. He sits gingerly on the end of his four-poster bed with the black comforter and matching pillows, surrounded by posters of smiling swimsuit girls, Eminem, D.M.X, and Nirvana. He looks past his plasma television and throws a last look at the full-length mirror, smiling. At least he will impress Sansa, even if he cares nothing for her.

"Oh, Joff, you look wonderful, baby," Mom coos from the kitchen bar, poised with one slender leg over the other and holding a flute filled with red wine. "Come here so I can see." He listens and approaches her, a small smile on his face. She admires his outfit a bit more before patting his face approvingly. "It's working," she says, relieved. "You're clearing up. Good. Sansa's going to melt when she sees you. This is her first date, you know. Cat called me, badgering me about you to make sure you're not a bad influence. That woman is the biggest bitch I've met—"

"You could probably give her a run for her money, Cersei," Dad comments in a wry voice, entering the kitchen and leaning against the counter, surveying Joffrey with a skeptical expression. Joffrey stands up a bit taller.

Mom rolls her jade eyes to the ceiling and flings back her blonde curls. "At least I trust _my_ children. She doesn't let poor Sansa have any fun, and you know it, Robert. Poor little dove. She's so shy, she can barely make eye contact. And you just _know_ Cat forced her into that all-girls school. This will be good for her."

Dad shrugs like he is not so sure about that before pouring himself a large glass of wine and running his hand through his black beard. "Do you really have to wear girl's pants, Joffrey? Don't you think having long hair is enough?"

"It's the _style, _Robert," Mom snaps and Joffrey grits his teeth, bored of the same old arguments. They're always either grilling each other with sarcasm or shouting. Joffrey has a faint memory of when they used to get along. But Mom says it was doomed from the start all because Dad wouldn't give up on his first love, Ned's sister Lyanna. She died in a car wreck before Joffrey was ever born so he doesn't know why Mom can't just get over it.

Instead of getting involved, he looks to Mom and winces. "What if I hate Sansa? What if she's an idiot?"

"Then you never have to see her again," answers Mom instantly, running her hand down Joffrey's arm.

Dad looks at them with an irritated expression. "Don't be a little asshole, Joff. Please. That's all I ask." Joffrey cringes.

"Robert!" Cersei snaps and puts an arm on Joffrey's shoulder but he shrugs her off.

"Sorry, but Sansa's a good kid. I don't want to catch hell from Ned if I hear you've been acting like a jerk wad in front of her. Don't embarrass me."

"I won't!" Joffrey protests in a mewling voice.

"And remember to ask how Bran is doing—"

Mom looks up from her wine, flinging her curls back again. "Is he still in critical condition?"

Joffrey zones out for a moment, not caring to hear more details about Sansa's little brother winding up in the hospital. He took a fall out of the third story window of the Starks' home two months ago while Mom, Dad, and Uncle Jaime were over for Ned's birthday celebration. Uncle Jaime and Mom were upstairs and heard him fall, and it's been all the town can talk about. Joffrey's tired of hearing his parents discussing it, especially annoyed that Dad seems more concerned about Bran's predicament than Joffrey. The kid is suffering from pretty severe injuries and might never wake up. If he does, he'll be a useless cripple for life. Joffrey doesn't care one way or the other. He just hopes Sansa won't be too emotional about it tonight. He can't stand when girls cry.

Dad changes the subject and so Joffrey tunes back in. "It would be nice if you two got along," Dad goes on. "She needs some cheering up. And it would be good for you."

"I agreed to one date," mutters Joffrey icily, narrowing his eyes. "If she's stupid, I'm driving her home early. Oh yeah. I need cash."

Dad lowers his wine glass to fish in his pants for his wallet. He hands Joffrey the money carefully, almost as though he thinks touching his son will burn him. "Fifty ought to cover dinner. I want the change, if there's any."

Joffrey is about to protest, but Mom beats him to it, sliding a manicured hand into her purse on the bar. "Honestly," she says, "he needs enough for gas, and maybe dessert or a movie. Here's another fifty-"

Joffrey grins and snatches the money from her at once.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Cersei?" asks Dad with a dry laugh. He lowers his voice as if Joffrey cannot hear him. "This is so typical of you. Remember what Doctor Varys told us—we can't be showering him with money all the time—"

"It's a _date," _Joffrey snaps. "And you're the ones making me go!"

"Then I want to see receipts!" Dad says strongly. "I want to make sure that's what you're doing with it—"

"Oh, Robert, don't be ridiculous. Besides, Ned and Cat will ask Sansa where Joff took her." She smiles at Joffrey. "Don't worry about giving your father proof. He's being paranoid. Go somewhere nice. Make it special for her. Show off a little."

_Oh, I'll make it special, _Joffrey thinks, deciding the extra cash will be great for getting booze. Booze helps Joffrey's nerves and it has other great qualities as well. _Maybe that'll make the Stark bitch loosen up. Insti-slut. Just add liquor. _

"I'm going to send Ned a bill," laughs Dad.

"Shut up, Robert," Mom snaps before finishing her wine and pouring another glass.

"Mom! Dad! We can't find him!" comes a shriek from the stairway and Tommen comes running in, Myrcella on his heels. They look solemn, causing Joffrey to smirk as he grabs his keys from the bar. Likely, Tommen's noticed his precious cat is missing. For a bit of fun, Joffrey decided to put the stupid thing in the dryer and closed the door. He wanted to turn the machine on but resisted, figuring he will when he gets back tonight if Tommen isn't smart enough to find him.

Dad's tone of voice changes abruptly, kindness suddenly seeping in, making Joffrey's stomach drop. "What's wrong with you two? Who can't you find?"

"Mister Whiskers," Tommen says gravely, eyes flicking from Dad to Mom to Joffrey, who rolls his eyes. "He's been missing since this morning!"

"This is the third pet you've lost, Tommen!" Mom says angrily. "I'm beginning to think you can't handle the responsibility—"

"But I haven't done anything wrong!" Tommen asserts and Myrcella puts her arm around his shoulder. "I take good care of them and everything."

"He doesn't _mean _to lose them, Mom," she says, always the attempted peacemaker in the family. Joffrey curls his lip at them.

Dad sighs. "I'll help you make posters. Let's head to the study and then we can get them copied at my office."

"Robert, this is the _third pet,_" Mom squawks. "Maybe Tommen should deal with this on his own!"

"He was fine this morning when I let him out! And he always comes back when I get home from school," Tommen yelps and tears are welling in his eyes. Joffrey fights the urge to laugh. As Mom and Dad begin to argue again, Joffrey leans into Tommen's ear.

"_Check the basement,"_ he whispers, and revels in Tommen's bewildered expression before turning to leave. "I'm out," he says.

Dad tears his eyes off of Mom. "Drive safely. Get Sansa home at an early hour. And try not to say anything weird-"

Joffrey bristles. "I _won't, _okay?"

"Oh, Joff," Mom begins, her voice tentative and soft as butter. "Did you remember to take your medication?"

"OH MY GOD! YES!" Joffrey shouts, grabbing the black hooded sweatshirt from the coat tree. "HONESTLY!"

"I'm sorry, baby. I have to ask!"

"Get off my case, all right?"

"Have a good time!"

Joffrey slams the door behind him, offhandedly fingering the outline of the six pills he's been saving since yesterday. They should make tonight palatable. Joffrey starts his car, turns on the Beastie Boys c.d. in his disk player, and dials Sandor. After ten rings, there's a click. "Sup, dog?" he greets.

Sandor answers. He has one of those voices you can hear the cigarette smoke clinging to. "What is it?"

"Since when do you talk to me like that, dog?" Joffrey grins, turning out of the driveway and increasing speed. "Talk to me like _that, _and I'll tell Dad you're my supplier."

"Yeah, and then you'd be without booze and weed," Sandor rasps.

"Then _you'd_ be without a job," Joffrey says sharply, ignoring a stop sign and roaring around the corner. "You're lucky you even got hired with your record. If I told my mom you offered me drugs she'd get you fired in ten seconds."

"She might get me fired from the company but who else is she gonna score coke from who won't blab to the press? Snow White isn't going to let me off so easily."

"Don't call her that."

"How about Madame Crack Whore? That suit you better, Joff?" Sandor wheezes.

"Shut up about my mom," Joffrey responds.

Sandor chuckles deeply. "Mama's boy 'til the end."

"_Don't _talk to me like that," Joffrey says in a testy tone, leaning back in his seat and carelessly using one arm to slowly swing the driving wheel from side to side.

"Yes, your highness."

Joffrey laughs. "That's better. Look. I need you to buy some booze for me tonight. I'll meet you in front of the liquor store on Eighty-second Street, by the Winter Fell housing development."

"Whatever you want, boss."

Joffrey sneers. "See you in a bit."

. . .

* * *

Sandor is leaning stoically against the wall in front of the liquor store, and when he sees Joffrey's red Miata pull up he glowers as Joffrey lowers the driver's seat window. He flashes Sandor a charming grin as he strolls to the car window. "Yo dog."

"What am I getting?" Sandor grunts, holding out his gnarled, tattooed hand. He's wearing an oversized beanie to house his chunky dreads, and his facial burns are completely exposed. Joffrey isn't sure what's more pathetic: days like this when you can actually see the hideous deformity or the times when Sandor tries to comb his knotty long hair over the burns.

"Vodka," Joffrey says.

"What kind?"

"The kind that makes it so I'm not sober," Joffrey says with a snort. "Keep the change."

Sandor rolls his eyes. "Really a connoisseur, aren't you?" But he snatches the twenty out of Joffrey's hands and lumbers off. Joffrey checks his watch. He's got a half an hour before he needs to pick up Sansa, which is enough time to get a bit of a buzz on.

When Sandor returns, he looks both ways before handing off the brown paper bag. "I need a ride," he says.

"Not a chance in hell," Joffrey jeers. He grabs three pills out of his pocket, unscrews the vodka bottle and knocks them back. He makes a face and pulls the bottle out of the bag. "What the fuck is this?"

"The kind that will make it so you're not sober," says Sandor dully. "Come on, I know you have to drive back past the mall. My car is still in the shop over there and I want to check on it. Those bastards haven't called me back—"

"Nah," Joffrey says, shaking his head and taking another swig of the vodka. He cringes. "I have to pick this girl up for a date."

Sandor raises his eyebrows. "Ned Stark's girl?"

"How'd you know?" Joffrey asks, scanning the parking lot before emptying a good amount of vodka into the silver flask he keeps in his glove compartment.

"Ned was over at your dad's office last week and they were talking about it." He laughs deeply. "You really are a retard, Joffrey—"

"Fuck you," Joffrey snarls. "What the hell do you mean?"

"You're drinking in your car on the way to pick up Officer Stark's goody goody daughter. You must have a death wish."

Joffrey drums his hand on the steering wheel. "I'm not afraid of him." He pauses. "How much of a goody goody is she?" he demands.

Sandor shakes his head. "Just give me a ride, Joff," he says. "You can drop me off after you pick her up—"

"Your face is going to scare her so bad," Joffrey says, but unlocks the passenger door. "I'll blame you if she doesn't get on my dick later."

Sandor laughs again, wheezing slightly. "I don't think Sansa Stark even knows what a dick is."

"Jesus Christ," Joffrey mutters and peels out of the parking lot.

. . .

Joffrey pops two sticks of mint gum into his mouth and blares the horn as soon as they pull into the Starks' driveway.

"Classy," comments Sandor. "You're really winning points already."

"Whatever," Joffrey shrugs. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stop being a dipshit, maybe? Go inside. Pretend to be courteous. Promise to bring her home in one piece. Compliment her house—"

"Their house isn't half as nice as mine," Joffrey smirks. "I guess you're right, though. Move to the backseat. I want Sansa up front. Easier access, y'know."

"You're a real Romeo," Sandor comments in a cynical voice.

Joffrey gets out and slams the door, surveying the toys strewn about the front lawn. Mom would never stand for that. She hired two gardeners to make sure their yard is always immaculate. When Joffrey knocks on the door, there's a cacophony of dogs barking coming from the gated backyard and the front door swings open. A little boy in a Tae Kwon Do uniform is standing there. Joffrey doesn't remember this kid from the last time he saw the Starks. It would be just like them to take in another stray.

"What do you want?" the kid snaps in a high voice, looking Joffrey up and down. _Major attitude. _

"I'm here for Sansa," Joffrey says, adjusting his collar and staring past the kid. The house wouldbe nice if it weren't so messy. There's a large television blaring from a wall mount in the living room, and a staircase just behind the little boy. The walls are lined with school portraits.

"_Oooh, riiight," _the little boy says. "You're going on a _date. _Are you gonna kiss her?"

"Uh. What?"

The kid laughs. "With _tongue?"_

"Look, is she here?" Joffrey asks, quickly becoming irritated.

"JOFFREY AND SANSA SITTING IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Joffrey's very close to backhanding this little shit across the face when he catches a glimpse of red hair from the staircase. He looks her up and down, barely recognizing Sansa with her long, layered haircut and lipstick. She's definitely grown up a lot in the past two years.

"Get out of here!" Sansa exclaims, rushing down the steps. The kid bursts out laughing, running back inside the house as Sansa approaches the doorway. Her face is slightly pink.

"Sup?" Joffrey greets, giving her a small smile. He's had just enough alcohol to be comfortable, plus he can feel the Paxil kicking in, and he surveys Sansa again. She's wearing a very modest shirt and a skirt that hangs past her knees, not to mention extremely dorky knee socks, but he's happy to see she's got a very pretty face and nice enough breasts.

"Hey, Joffrey. I haven't seen you in a while. Th-thanks for coming to pick me up," Sansa giggles and blushes harder. _Cute, _Joffrey thinks. "I'm sorry about Arya. She's so rude, it's totally embarrassing."

"She?" Joffrey asks, confused. "Oh. _Arya. _Wait. I thought Arya was your little sister…" He trails off, realizing that _was _the same little brat. "She cut her hair or something?"

Sansa blushes even more, which Joffrey didn't think was humanly possible. "Yeah, I keep telling her she looks like a boy but she doesn't care."

"Weird," Joffrey says. There's an awkward pause. Sansa doesn't meet his eyes and she continues to giggle. "Well. Uh. Want to get going?" he asks in a sharp way.

"Oh!" Sansa says, and her eyes finally snap upward. "I'm sorry! I have to grab my purse and also, my parents want you to come in. I'm really sorry," she repeats. "It's totally obnoxious. You totally don't even have to come in if you don't want, I'll just tell them—"

"Nah, it's cool," Joffrey says, though he rolls his eyes as soon as she turns around to guide him inside. His attitude improves as he checks out her backside and her long legs. Maybe this night won't be entirely hopeless after all.

The Stark home is almost as big as the Baratheons' but it's lived in and messy. Mom can't believe how many kids they have and Joffrey has to side with her on this one. Sansa's older brothers Robb and Jon are playing video games and pay them no attention. The Starks' foster kid Theon is watching from behind the couch and gives Joffrey a nod. Joffrey glares, stepping over toys and games as he follows Sansa into the dining room. Ned and Catlin are cozied up together at the table, pouring over checkbooks and what look like bills.

"Mom, Dad," Sansa says, her voice high and eager. "We're going."

"Hello, Joffrey," greets Cat in a voice that borders between cold and cordial.

"Hi," Joffrey says and allows his mouth to turn upward, remembering that these are not some random people—he doesn't want them to tell his father he was rude. "How's Bran doing?" he asks, trying to make his concern sound genuine.

Cat gives him a tired smile. "Thank you for asking. He hasn't shown any signs yet of recovery. The doctors have said that after a month, some people lose hope. But I'm not going to. I believe he will get out of it. He's strong." Her voice is rising slightly as if she doesn't even believe herself. "We're actually heading over there to visit him in a few minutes."

Joffrey wonders how much good can come from visiting someone in a coma, but he remembers Uncle Tyrion's advice to think before he speaks. Tyrion isn't Joffrey's favorite family member, but Sandor had told him when he'd complained there might be some merit in that suggestion. So instead, he just smiles at the Starks and shrugs. "Sorry," he says.

"Joffrey," Ned says and gets to his feet. "You're practically taller than me, now. It's been a long time—"

"It really has, sir," Joffrey says, feigning politeness, and extends his hand for Ned to shake. Sansa looks back and forth between them, looking hopeful. "How have you been?"

"Busy. And exhausted," Ned says with a chuckle, gesturing to the slew of papers. "It's been difficult working and worrying about Bran. But we're confident he'll be okay." He and Cat exchange sad looks. _Get me out of here, _Joffrey thinks and shuffles his feet. "How's school been for you?

Joffrey shrugs. "It's okay." The truth is, school sucks. Joffrey's not completely an outcast; he'd never be, what with his family's slick status in town. Having a semi-famous mother from a prominent local family _and _a successful father is a winning combination, so Joffrey's often sucked up to by teachers and respected by students. He doesn't let too many people get close and school's often an awful pit of noise, mess and disturbance to Joffrey's mental stability. Bluntly stated, other people piss him off. Other kids generally know to avoid him now, yet some still call him a "weirdo" or "freak." Some have even outwardly mocked his temper, called him a "big baby." That's why Joffrey keeps a list in his binder of the wrongs he's suffered. He'll be prepared. If he's ever in power, he will strike back at those who've disrespected him.

"Still interested in natural science? It wasn't really my strong suit in school but Robert says you've got the stomach for it. I remember we had to dissect rats once," Ned says. Sansa squeals and Cat cringes, looking back to the bills on the table. "Not for me."

"Yeah, I like it! I've dissected rats, too. It was pretty interesting," Joffrey says. "Also cow eyes, sheep brains, frogs. I asked the teacher if we'd ever get to try anything bigger. I really like taking animals apart, seeing what's inside them. I wouldn't mind working in a crime lab. Y'know, like taking apart corpses and seein' how they died and sh-" Joffrey catches himself but Cat gives him a Look all the same. "Stuff, I mean. Uncle Jaime says I could do it, if I keep getting good grades."

Cat makes eye contact with Ned, who nods as if he doesn't know how to respond. "I suppose there's something for everyone. So, you're going to be driving?" There's a definite _Dad _tone to Ned's voice now.

"Yes, sir," Joffrey smiles thinly. "And don't worry. I've got insurance and a current I.D. and everything like that. She's in good hands." He glances at Sansa who giggles and blushes. Again. _Oh Jesus, _Joffrey thinks, though it is kind of endearing.

"Be back by eleven," Ned says. "No later." He reaches over to give Sansa a hug but she pulls away.

"Ugh, Dad, seriously? See you later. Say hi to Bran for me," she says. _Like the little fuck can even hear you. _Joffrey leads the way out, only slightly aware of the shrewd look Cat is giving him. His vision is getting the tiniest bit hazy and he can feel the corners of his mouth twitching into a looser smile.

"Sansa!" Cat barks. "Be sure to grab a sweater on the way out. Winter is coming!"

Sansa sighs but does as she's told, excusing herself to run back upstairs to her room. Ned and Cat bid the kids a goodnight on their way out and Joffrey stands against the wall near Theon, trying not to make eyes with any of the Starks. They're all a bunch of cocks, as far as Joffrey is concerned. Robb's the golden boy at North High School, track star and favorite of teachers and students alike. Jon, Ned's bastard son, isn't popular but he found his niche in the art scene with all the creative freaks. Theon's just Robb's tagalong, from what Dad's said.

"Hey Joffrey," Robb says in a low voice, barely audible above the sounds of Mario Kart. "I know about you. All right?"

Joffrey slowly turns to face him, heart rate increasing just a bit. For a second, he wonders if Robb knows he's been using but he chocks that up to paranoia. The Starks are good kids, law-abiding and God-fearing. "And what is that supposed to mean?" he asks in an equally low voice. His blood boils when Robb doesn't even have the courtesy to take his eyes off the large television on the wall.

"It means I don't care if our dads are best friends. I've heard about you from the guys at South. My sister might be a total head case but she's _my little sister. _Okay?"

Joffrey squints at the guys on the couch. "I still don't know what the hell you're saying, Stark."

Robb finally tears his eyes off Mario. "I'm _saying_ if you do anything creepy, I won't sit back and let it happen." Jon nudges Robb but Robb keeps eye contact with Joffrey.

"You want to fight me, bro?" Joffrey asks, forcing a grin. "Let's do it. Let's do it right now, huh?"

Robb tosses the controller down. "You got it, Joffrey."

Theon cracks his knuckles. "I got your back, Robb—"

"This is stupid, guys," Jon mutters. "Dad wouldn't like it—"

"Shut up, Jon," Robb says.

Joffrey swallows, subconsciously fingering the back pocket of his jeans. "Come at me, Stark," he says.

Robb stands up. He's got to be about a foot taller than Joffrey, with a solid jaw and a dark look in his eyes that does not suggest amusement. But he probably doesn't fight dirty, Joffrey decides, so there's still a chance. His mind is spinning, preparing for fight or flight.

At that moment, Sansa rushes back downstairs. "Okay, I'm ready!" she says excitedly, sporting a navy blue coat that matches her sweater.

Robb looks at him, cocking his eyebrow. "Your move."

Joffrey laughs, louder than he intends to. "I was just kidding, bro," he says. "Calm down." With that, he follows Sansa out as fast as he can.

"Remember what I said, Baratheon!" Robb shouts.

As soon as they're outside, Sansa looks at Joffrey with a fearful expression. "Oh, gosh, what did he say? Something embarrassing? They're always teasing me—"

"Nah," Joffrey says, taking a deep breath. "Nothing like that."

"Good," she says firmly. "I can't stand my family most of the time. Jon's not bad but he's only my half-brother. And Robb and Arya are always making fun of me. Mom and Dad are so strict, but I mean, it's probably good for me anyway, because of school, and it's not like I ever really stay out most nights. I'm usually at home, which gets boring, or at the hospital. I've been reading to Bran, or I go there and do my homework and—I'm sorry," she bursts out as they pause in front of the Miata. "I'm rambling. I do that sometimes."

"I can see that," Joffrey says, and he lets Sansa into the passenger's door.

"What's up?" questions Sandor from the back seat as soon as Joffrey gets in.

Sansa lets out a shriek. "Oh jeez! I totally didn't know anyone was back there!"

"This is my home dog, Sandor," Joffrey says with a laugh. "I'm giving him a ride."

"I'm not your _home dog," _Sandor says caustically. "That sounds fucking stupid, Joffrey. You're white."

"Yeah, but I'm gangsta."

"Psh," Sandor says, "you ain't _gangsta."_

"Sure I am. Sure I'm gangsta," Joffrey whines.

"Uh _huh_. Anyway, I'm Sandor. Or just the Watch Dog. What's up, Sansa."

"It's nice to meet you." When Sansa turns around, her hand outstretched to shake Sandor's, she gasps. Joffrey continues to laugh as he starts the car. He sees people react this way all the time to Sandor's burns and it never stops being funny.

"It's cool." Sandor gives a dark chortle. "You don't have to look at me if you don't want to."

"No- it's- I didn't." Sansa stops struggling for the right words and instead turns around, staring straight ahead with her hands folded in the center of her lap, creasing her navy skirt.

Joffrey snickers and turns up the c.d., drumming his hands on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. He feels his mood improving, his eyes glazing over slightly. He speeds through a stop sign and Sansa lets out a scream as a Ford truck hits its brakes. It screeches to a halt right by where Joffrey's car was seconds ago. "Don't worry," he says offhandedly, looking over at Sansa to gauge her reaction. Her blue eyes are wide and she's gripping the seat. "Honestly, I do that all the time." He turns up the music to full blast and Sandor moans, leaning back and shaking his head.

When they reach the auto shop by the mall, Joffrey swerves around the corner and narrowly avoids a fire hydrant. The car bounces onto the curb and Sansa covers her eyes with a gasp. Joffrey cackles, and the brakes squeal to a halt.

"Damn it, Joffrey!" Sandor shouts, making Sansa jump. "You're scaring the shit out of her."

"I'm fine!" Sansa puts in, her voice wavering as she slowly removes her hands from her face.

"See? She's okay!" Joffrey declares. "Why would I have a car like this if I can't go fast? Backseat goddamn driver. See if I give you a lift ever again."

Sandor scowls. "Thanks for nothing. Look. She's terrified."

Sansa lets out a nervous giggle as Joffrey watches her. "I'm okay!" she insists. "Really, I'm fine!"

"I wouldn't crash, babe," Joffrey remarks, his eyes traveling from Sansa's expression down to her chest. "I promise."

"Promise me you won't stare at her tits like that while you're driving," Sandor says dryly and Sansa looks to Joffrey, who immediately averts his eyes.

"Christ, Sandor! You pervert. I wasn't looking at her—her _chest,_" Joffrey says slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Don't be so disrespectful. You need to leave. Now."

"Right, Joffrey. My apologies," Sandor snaps. "Have a great night." He slams the car door and ambles toward the auto shop, pulling up his sagging faded jeans.

Joffrey lets out a sad sigh and shakes his head for good measure. "I'm really sorry about him," he says. "He's not very classy. At all. Dad hired him 'cause he believes in second chances and all that. He works security at the company and he's a real good watchdog over there but he's kind of rough, obviously. He doesn't know how to talk around girls, especially not girls like you."

"Girls like me?" Sansa asks quietly, her face still a bit pink. Joffrey notices she's got her arms folded over her front.

"Yeah. Real girls. Ladies," says Joffrey softly and smiles at her. Sansa meets his eyes and smiles back, and finally relaxes. "So, what do you like to eat?"

"I'll go wherever you want to go," Sansa says and so Joffrey drives them to the steakhouse down the road. When they leave the car, Sansa fingers the hem of her skirt. "Am I dressed up enough? I guess I didn't think you'd take me somewhere like this-"

Joffrey's eyes linger on the buttoned up collar, the length of the skirt, and he shrugs. "Is this your school uniform?"

Sansa averts her eyes. "Yes," she says quietly. "I had another outfit, but Mom said it was too _mature. _I never get to go out, and she makes me dress like _this." _She's blushing again and Joffrey actually feels a bit sorry for her this time.

"Well, you look good in it, anyway," he says. "Though I gotta say, I'd like to see what the mature outfit was."

She giggles and reddens as they walk side-by-side to the front door of the restaurant and Joffrey can't help but visualize her in clothes like the girl from the computer game. Black lace lingerie. _Please Master. Please, _he imagines Sansa saying, thinks about tightening his hands around her neck, and he quickly tries to drive the image out of his head. He can remember it later when he's alone. By the time they are seated in the dimly lit dining area, Joffrey feels high. As Sansa babbles about being on the student council and gives the tedious details of the recent argument she had with Arya, Joffrey stares at her with a slight smile on his thin face. Sansa's not bad, he decides. She's good-looking and he can tell she likes him.

"So how do you know Sandor?" she asks after the waitress has taken their orders and Joffrey breaks out of his stupor, eager to chat now.

He laughs lightly, propping his head up with his hand. "Didn't I tell you that already?" he asks, trying to focus on Sansa's questions but instead getting lost staring at the pattern on the black leather of the booth behind her head. He can hear everything now, as if the sounds of the world are musical instruments in his brain: the clinking forks, the conversing couple at the table next to their booth, the sound system playing soft hits of the 90s. Combined with the hint of tipsiness he feels from the vodka, Joffrey feels at home. As usual, it makes life easier to exist in.

"Well, you said he works for your dad but it seems like you know him pretty well," Sansa says conversationally, putting her hands demurely in her lap and smiling at him.

"He's a good friend," Joffrey says. "He doesn't care about anything just like me and that's why we get along." Of course, this is a slight alteration of the truth but Sansa doesn't need to know this. She doesn't need to know about the days when Joffrey cares so much about everything he has horrific temper tantrums, or when he cares so much he slams his fist through walls and doors and then cries about the pain. She doesn't need to know he's threatened to murder his little brother and sister if he doesn't get his way, or that he steals from his dad and blames it on his mom. Right now, the statement seems true and that is all that matters to Joffrey.

"I don't have many friends that are grown-ups," Sansa says, her eyes wide. She leans in, appearing interested. "How did you start hanging out?"

"Sandor and I are cool." Joffrey crosses one leg over the other and cracks his knuckles, glad to see Sansa is hanging onto his every word. "At first, he was kinda a big brother to me. I used to go to Dad's office after school every day and we got to know each other. He made sure I didn't get bored. You know. That kind of thing." He leaves out the details about Sandor's drug dealing, and doesn't mention that he's also Mom's supplier. Joffrey knows Mom would be distraught if she ever caught him using, but he knows he wouldn't get in trouble. He can just throw her cocaine habit in her face.

"It's sweet you two are friends," Sansa says. She looks thoughtful. "But he's kind of scary. No offense."

"Oh yeah, he gets that a lot. Obviously the burns are pretty disgusting," Joffrey grins. "Do you want to know how he got them? It's a good story."

Sansa pauses in taking a sip from her water glass and pats her lips with her cloth napkin. "Okay," she says, sounding unsure.

Joffrey folds his hands in front of him and leans across the booth. "He's got an older brother. In prison, they nicknamed him The Mountain. Know why?"

"Was he really tall?" Sansa guesses.

"Not just _really _tall," Joffrey says, "he's a mammoth. The guy is like six foot nine or something. I only saw him once and he towered over me. It was wack."

"Wow," Sansa says, raising her eyebrows.

"Right? So, Sandor's brother snapped when they were kids. Just went insane. Sandor told me he doesn't know why but the Mountain told him to follow him out to the garage one day and he splashed acid in Sandor's face. Just out of nowhere. Isn't that crazy?" Joffrey asks with a laugh. "Sandor could have died—"

"What did he do?" Sansa whispers, sounding concerned.

"He pulled a knife on the Mountain and they both ended up in juvie. The Mountain kept threatening Sandor and shit and so Sandor freaked. He bashed him over the head with a chair like ten times. That made the Mountain leave Sandor alone," Joffrey says, proud of his friend. "They both ended up in prison together later but the Mountain never fucked with him again. Sandor's the one guy the Mountain won't screw with."

Sansa is playing with her napkin. She looks slightly put off. "Do you know a lot of people who've been in prison?" she asks. "It's just… My dad… I don't know if he'd like that…"

_Ah, _Joffrey thinks, _of course. Perfect Officer Stark. Oink oink. _"Nah," he says. "And Sandor's served his time. His sentence was bunk anyway, he didn't even deserve it. Don't worry about him. If he scares you, I won't let him talk to you. You're safe with me, okay?"

She smiles and nods, seemingly satisfied. "My parents are really overprotective," she says. "They've always been but since Bran… it's gotten worse."

"My parents are chill," Joffrey replies, lining the salt and pepper shakers and various steak sauces in a neat line. "They know I'm trustworthy. I get to do what I want, when I want. It's pretty awesome. I make my own rules. No curfew—"

"That's cool!" Sansa says brightly. "I wish my family was like that, but they're—"

"It's not that my parents don't care," Joffrey interrupts, straightening the line of condiments. "They're busy but they are always checking up on me. They just know I can handle myself. Of course, I'm also older than you." Joffrey's mouth is going faster than his mind can work. He can't say everything fast enough. "It must be a drag to have a cop as a dad. He's probably always breathing down your neck. And your mom's pretty hardcore, isn't she?"

"Oh, it's not so bad," Sansa says, "I love them. They're just—"

"Honestly," Joffrey goes on, "I can't believe he even let you out on this date. Even though our dads are friends, I'd have thought he wouldn't let you out of your cage this long." He snickers and flips his bangs out of his eyes.

Sansa smiles faintly and stares at her silverware. "I was… I was going to ask if this was a date." She pauses for a moment, her cheeks turning pink.

The waitress arrives with the food and there's a pause that Joffrey uses to his advantage, watching Sansa squirm in her seat at his silence. He does not answer for a moment, instead cutting into the rare slab of prime rib before him expertly with the steak knife. Bright red juice drips out of the meat. The waitress departs and Sansa watches him, her food untouched.

"Joffrey?" she asks tentatively. "Is it a date?"

"Yeah, of course," Joffrey says, flashing her a good-natured smile.

She smiles back, saying nothing, and picks at her plate of salmon salad.

He continues to stare at her, his gaze hardening a bit. "You _want _it to be a date. Don't you?"

"Yes! I really do," she says enthusiastically, and then turns bright red. "Oh my gosh, I sound like a total dork. I'm sorry," she moans. "It's just, you're really cool and this is my first date and I feel like I messed it up all ready."

"How would you have messed it up?" Joffrey asks. His tone is cold.

Sansa squirms again. "I don't know," she whispers. "I just feel like I'm saying all the wrong things. It's been a weird year. Jon's considering joining the army. Theon's trying to reconnect with his birth father but Dad's totally against the idea. And Bran, of course. I've been looking forward to tonight ever since Dad told me. I just don't want to scare you away."

"Scare me away?" Joffrey asks, face softening, and he decides right then that Sansa's better than the other girls who've shown interest in him. She's got the right demeanor and he really wouldn't mind copping a feel later. The room is zooming in and out. He reaches his hand across the table and smiles at her. "Take it," he urges and uncertainly, she does, her eyes wide pools of crystal. "You're not going to scare me. You haven't done anything wrong. Stop worrying."

"Okay," Sansa says, emitting a relieved laugh. "Cool."

Joffrey lightly squeezes her fingers. "You're_ so_ cute," he says in a low voice, and he's proud when the flush he predicted would spring up appears upon her cheeks, spreading far and fast and deep pink.

. . .

* * *

Dinner is a success. They split a slice of triple chocolate cake afterward and Joffrey watches, slightly transfixed, as Sansa subconsciously runs her tongue around the tip of the spoon to catch the remaining bits of vanilla ice cream. Joffrey talks freely, and Sansa is an agreeable, attractive audience for him. The Starks are even more religious than Joffrey knew. It's always been a point of contention between Robert and Ned, their only big difference in values being Robert's atheism. Ned's not as serious a Christian as Cat, but he's still all bent up on being pious and faithful. _Love thy neighbor shit. _Therefore, Sansa talks as if she's been living under a rock the past couple years. She doesn't watch MTV and has not seen a single Tarantino film. She hasn't heard of Ludacris and she says Cat won't allow her to listen to Eminem. Joffrey promises to get her caught up the current trends. The conversation goes well now that Joffrey's anxiety has melted like the ice cream left in the bowl between them. She laughs at his jokes, smiles adoringly at him, and he can't wait to get her to a more secluded location.

After he hands the waitress back the bill jacket and they are on their way to the car, Sansa bows her head. "Thanks so much for dinner, Joffrey. It was really, really nice." She pauses as though she's unsure if she should go on and finally says, "I'm having a great time."

"Me too," Joffrey agrees, and he's not lying as he has with other girls. After checking his watch, he looks back at Sansa. "You want to catch a movie? We can roll out to the mall and see what's playing." Of course, Joffrey already knows what they are going to see. _Saw II _is playing and he's certain they can catch a showing. He's wanted to see it, plus they can sneak booze in and take some more of the edge off. Sansa likely doesn't drink, and he's interested what liquor will make her do.

Sansa nods agreeably. "Yeah, I'd like that! As long as we're home a little before eleven, it'll be fine. I got all my homework done early, so I don't have to worry about that!"

"Right," says Joffrey, starting up the car. "I'll get you home in time. Don't you worry about that."

In the parking lot of the theatre, Sansa unfastens her belt and is preparing to get out when Joffrey excuses his reach, leans over her and opens the glove compartment. "Not yet." He grabs the flask and takes a swig, making sure not to visibly cringe this time. "Here. Try this."

Sansa eyes it nervously. "What's that?" she asks cautiously.

"Just try it," Joffrey replies. She takes the flask from him, and takes a slow, small sip.

"Gosh!" she exclaims, looking horrified. "What _is _that stuff? It burns!"

"Vodka," he says and takes back the flask, knocking back another shot. "It's better if you do it really fast. Here, have another drink." The flask hovers between them, Sansa staring reproachfully at it.

"Oh! No, no…I… don't think so," she says in a hushed voice. "My parents don't let me. My dad… He wouldn't like it, he's only ever let me try a tiny sip of wine, and only at Christmas."

Joffrey snickers. "Well, your dad isn't here right now. And what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"But I—"

"Just don't tell him," says Joffrey, and his dark green eyes flash. He holds the flask closer to her. "You've never been drunk so you don't know how good it feels. It'll really make us have a good time. And your parents will never know—"

"I don't know, Joffrey. I _want _to, it's just, I don't want to get into trouble," Sansa says.

"I won't get you in trouble," Joffrey replies but Sansa is looking out the window like she's searching for something. He's got to find a way to convince her, otherwise he knows that when it comes to getting a little action with Sansa Stark, all signs point to "no". He needs the vodka to be his wingman. It's worked before. At the sophomore prom last spring, he spiked a girl's drink and took her behind the stage. That night, he got to feel up tits for the first time. When she confronted him the next day he pulled his blade out of the back pocket of his Hilfiger jeans and told her if she said anything to anybody, he'd slice her neck open. She was too freaked to do anything but it still made Joffrey a little paranoid. He knew he had to be more careful if he wanted to get more out of the deal. _Sansa'll probably go for it if she thinks we're going to go steady. It's going fine, so why not? Dad will be pleased I have a girlfriend, I can fool around with her for a few weeks and hopefully drop my v-card—win-win for the Joff. Girls like when you say drippy shit. It makes getting things from them easier. _This he knows from experience. "D'ya want to be my girlfriend?" he asks, his voice silky smooth.

Just as he expects, Sansa's eyes light up and she nods rapidly, causing Joffrey to grin. "Yes! I do, I really do, I mean, of course I want to take it slow but, oh my gosh, yes. I've had a crush on you since we were younger and I can't believe this is happening!"

"I want you to have a good time, Sansa. Just try a bit more," Joffrey says and fixes her with his most charming look. "My girlfriend can drink as much as she likes."

Sansa lets out an excited laugh and seems to be deliberating with herself for a moment before she grabs the flask from Joffrey. "Okay," she says determinedly, and takes a bigger swallow. She gives a little squeal of disgust. "It's awful!"

"It'll be much better inside. I'll dump it in a Slurpee and you won't even taste it."

"You're going to take that into the movies?' Sansa gasps.

"Yeah, why not?" Joffrey asks, grabbing his hooded sweatshirt from the backseat and zipping it over his dress shirt. "I told you. The Joff does as he likes."

She watches him in awe as they walk toward the ticket booth, and Joffrey casually slips his hand through hers. She beams and lightly squeezes his fingers. _This night is turning out pretty fucking good, _he thinks. He orders two tickets for the new romantic comedy, knowing he surely can't pass Sansa off for over sixteen, and after hitting up the concession stand he leads her toward the theatre showing the horror film.

"This isn't our movie," Sansa says, and is turning to leave but Joffrey holds her hand tighter.

"Nah. This is right. Trust me, this will much better—"

"I don't really like scary things. No offense. But I'm a total baby. Arya can handle worse stuff than I can, it's totally sad—"

Joffrey opens the door to the screening room and tilts his head. "Come on, Sansa. It'll be fun." When she stares blankly at him he shrugs and walks in by himself. Seconds later, he hears her footsteps and smiles to himself. _Got her, _he thinks. The previews are playing loudly and the theatre is fairly leads them up to the back row and sits down in the farthest corner. Sansa sits beside him, crossing her legs and putting her hands in her lap as Joffrey empties the flask into the large cup.

"What if we get caught?" she asks in his ear.

"I told you not to worry," he whispers back and takes a drink. He can still make out the cheap booze but it's far more palatable. This time when Sansa takes a sip, she does not make a face and instead continues to hold the cup, jiggling her leg tensely. Finally the movie starts and Joffrey can already tell it's going to be better than the first. Jigsaw isn't his favorite horror movie killer, but he's up there with the best of the master manipulators. Joffrey likes _The Hills Have Eyes _and _House of 1,000 Corpses _best but you can't beat a classic like _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. _The best horror films have intense scenes of guts, gore, and of course, good-looking girls.

When he looks over at Sansa again, her mouth is slack and her eyes wide. As the first game is revealed, Sansa lets out a troubled groan and he watches her reaction, taking another long drink of the cherry-vodka concoction. He's entertained by her terrified face but the next time he turns to look at her, she's got her eyes screwed shut.

"Ay," Joffrey says into her ear, "you have to watch what happens. What good is it if you don't?"

"It's so gross," Sansa shudders, eyes still closed.

"Have more of this and relax," he requests, thrusting the drink at her and this time, she takes it at once. Her eyes are once again peeled to the screen as she sucks through the straw and hands it back to Joffrey, who feels his movements getting clumsier. At this point, he's had to have had at least five shots. He hopes Sansa's beginning to feel her buzz. When it's revealed that the man can be saved by using the knife to cut out his own eye, Sansa starts to make cries of terror. Guys in the scattered audience chuckle, including Joffrey. "This is _so _sick," he says approvingly, leaning his head against hers. "Bet he can't do it. Bet he's going to be a pussy about it."

Just as he's predicted, the guy can't do it and the Venus Flytrap- like apparatus of spikes viciously embraces his face. Joffrey cracks up laughing. Sansa screams and clings to Joffrey's arm, her nails digging into his skin through his hooded sweatshirt. "Damn!" he exclaims, surprised.

"I told you, I can't—I'm sorry—it's too scary—please, _please _can we go?" Sansa asks, her voice a bit louder than before.

"Shut up!" yells someone from the front of the theater.

Joffrey shushes her and shakes her hands off him. "Grow up," he says callously. "It's just a movie."

Sansa looks like she might say something else but instead she has more to drink, bringing her feet up underneath her on the seat. They watch in silence for another half hour until the soundtrack blares and Sansa shrieks again. Joffrey slips his arm around her and squeezes her shoulder lightly with his fingers. She hesitates for a moment before snuggling against him. "My lips are numb," she whispers to Joffrey a few minutes later. Her thick, sleek hair feels very soft on his face. "And I feel…weird. Do you think I'm drunk?"

He laughs, heartbeat quickening. "You're not _drunk_ yet, Sansa. But you're probably a little tipsy. How does it feel?"

"Not bad," she says. "Just… strange." She giggles.

"Finish this," he orders her, and nudges the booze at her. It's still about halfway full, and Sansa eyes it. She hesitates.

"I don't know," she whispers.

"Come on," Joffrey says, nudging her again. "If you finish it, you'll feel much better. It'll make the movie funnier, too. Come on. Do it."

Sansa shrugs, apparently debating with herself, and finally seizes the large cup. It takes her a few minutes but she finally returns it, empty, to the cup holder between them and Joffrey runs his fingers over her arm. Sansa leans back and smiles at him. "I do feel good," she says, her voice a bit louder. "But I still _hate_ this movie. No offense."

"We don't really have to watch it," Joffrey murmurs and before she can say anything, he slowly tilts his head toward her. Sansa looks up and her expression is innocent; her eyelashes are long and her lips are slightly open already, made redder from the cherry. Joffrey brings one hand to the side of her face and pushes his lips against hers. Sansa breathes quickly before returning the kiss, and her lips are soft and wet. Joffrey groans into her mouth, kissing her deeper, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip very slightly. They continue to kiss like this for a bit longer until Joffrey brings his lips to her ear, then her neck, and winds down to her exposed collarbone. Sansa leans her head back and breathes heavily, her eyes fluttering shut. There's a scream of horror on screen. Sansa stiffens up while Joffrey moves over her further, pressing against her and threading his hands through her hair. She exhales and puts her hands inside his sweatshirt, palms on his narrow chest.

Sansa tastes like the vodka cherry slushy and she's making soft panting sounds. After they've been making out for a bit longer her runs his hand behind her back and drives his tongue between her open lips. She makes a noise of surprise but then runs her hands over his chest, grabbing onto the inside of his sweatshirt.

"Do you like doing this?" Joffrey mutters into her ear, his voice heavy. The movie is loud enough that they can talk without anyone caring. The soundtrack blares, and screams erupt from the movie. She nods, bringing her hand to his hair and gazing at him. "And am I the first guy you've made out with?"

"Yeah," Sansa says and giggles, closing her eyes. Her teeth are very straight and white when she smiles, and her tongue curls through her teeth. "But you've probably been with other girls, right?"

"Yeah. Lots," Joffrey says at once, even though he's really only gone on one official date and the other girls he's messed around with weren't really participating like Sansa is. But if he doesn't act like he knows what he's doing, there's even less of a chance he'll get any. Sandor said girls can smell a pathetic virgin from miles away, and that Joffrey's scent is _Eau De Get This Dick. _

Sansa's eyes flutter open and she purses her lips. "Oh, yeah. I figured," she says, a bit dejectedly.

"But, y'know, none of them were my girlfriends, not really. 'Cuz I didn't really like any of them. I'm having fun with you," he says and when she kisses him again on the mouth, Joffrey knows he's got her hooked. _Sweet little Sansa Stark. _How he'd love to rub this in Robb Stark's face. By Joffrey's math, he figures it'll take a few dinners, maybe a few bunches of flowers and a sappy card or two, and he'll have Sansa Stark's red-hot virgin pussy by December. Then he can decide whether he wants to keep her around or not. After all, Mom has said he shouldn't feel like he owes anything to girls. She says a guy like him can have his pick, and Joffrey likes the idea of having options.

Whimpering cries blast out of the sound system and Joffrey's eyes flick back to the movie. The hottest of the babes has her arms caught in some sort of contraption that has her stuck, and blood is beginning to flow out of her wrists as she struggles to get free. Her sighs of relief at finding the antidote soon turn to squeals of surprise, then shrieks of absolute horror as she realizes she is not going to get out. Sansa kisses Joffrey's ear but he's transfixed, mouth slightly ajar, watching the fear on the girl's face hungrily. One of the remaining guys comes up behind her and Joffrey's skin prickles with excitement as the dude runs his hand across her neck, sweeping her hair back. _Wring her neck, _Joffrey thinks reflexively, and he ignores Sansa's mouth on his skin. _Kiss her neck, bite it and then wring it. _But the guy walks away, leaving the hot girl to her demise. Joffrey sighs, disappointed. _What a waste. He could have at least bitten her. Bet she smelled like blood. _He adjusts his legs and finally gives Sansa another kiss.

_. . ._

* * *

"That was horrible. Completely horrible!" Sansa chatters animatedly, her arm draped behind Joffrey's back as they exit the theatre. "I never thought I'd see something that gross in my entire life—"

"Oh, that was nothing," Joffrey declares, fingers in her hair. He pauses to give her a kiss, slipping his tongue in again and holding her hand. The pill and alcohol combination makes physical contact easy and Joffrey's glad for that.

There's a loud sound of clapping, and a voice shouts out, "YEAH, _GET _THAT FIRE CROTCH!"

Sansa pulls away from Joffrey at once, and he swings around to see who spoke. It's a gaggle of younger guys, all whooping and cheering, cheesy grins plastered on their tool faces. They look like they're no older than thirteen. Joffrey figures it wouldn't win him any points to laugh, so instead he drops Sansa's hand and glares at them. "Watch your goddamn mouth," he says. "She's not a piece of ass."

"_Ooh,_" one of them says, grinning. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Joffrey takes a step forward, realizing he's a bit unsteady on his feet. He does not break eye contact. "You want to stick around to find out?"

The guys all look worriedly. "We were just joking!" the leader says. "Sorry—"

"Apologize to my girlfriend," Joffrey snarls.

"S-sorry," the guy says.

"ALL of you," Joffrey orders. In a meek little chorus, all the guys mutter apologies and slink away.

Sansa looks at Joffrey adoringly and puts her arms around him. "You protected me," she says.

"Obviously," Joffrey shrugs, and leads her to the car, a smile on his face. _Thank God they were all little kids. _

"And you called me your girlfriend. Is it like… official?" Sansa asks, her voice high, and loud. She's definitely drunk, now, he notes. "Because… I'd really like that. I think my dad and mom will say this is too fast but we've known each other all our lives—I mean, not _well, _or anything, but—"

"Don't worry about what they think," Joffrey says and kisses her cheek. "You're my girl." They've reached the car and he opens it up for her, kissing her again before she gets inside. Sansa beams at him through the window when he gently closes the door.

"Are you sure it's okay that you drive?" she asks when he puts the key in the ignition. "I don't really think it's a good idea."

Joffrey laughs. "Don't be stupid. I can handle my liquor—"

"My dad says—"

"He's a cop, he has to say stuff like that to scare you out of having fun." Joffrey revs the car engine and turns on his music. "Don't worry. My mom drives plastered _all _the time."

She chatters to him incessantly as he drives and though Joffrey's irritated with this, he's glad she doesn't make any more remarks about his driving. He runs two red lights and skids around the corner of Winter Fell, coming to an abrupt stop in front of the Stark house. When he parks and turns to Sansa, she encases his jaw in her hands and puts her lips on his and Joffrey kisses her back. _This is going to be easier than I thought. _

"When can we hang out again?" he says breathlessly when she breaks the kiss. He wishes he could do more but he'll have to feign patience if he's going to do this right.

"As soon as possible," Sansa says at once while tracing his face with her finger. "This has been the perfect night." She laughs, throwing her hands up in the air. "I just can't believe I tried vodka! _And _that I got drunk… My parents would kill me!"

"Roll with me and you can get up to whatever you like," Joffrey murmurs in her ear.

Sansa shivers, smiling. "I'd better get inside."

"Let me walk you in," Joffrey says. "You know? Make sure you get home safe and everything." _Maybe grab that ass. _

Sansa smiles wider still and giggles, blushing. He opens her door and kisses her hand before holding it, swinging their palms between them. They walk hand-in-hand to the front steps and Sansa stands against him, her arms around his back. "Thank you so, so much, Joffrey," she whispers.

"Don't mention it," he says. "Next time, we should get food and then go back to my house. My mom's cool with everything. She'll love you. I mean, she likes you fine already, but she'll really love you, she thinks you're cute. Which you are—"

"I want her to love me," Sansa replies excitedly. "Your mom is so beautiful! She's awesome—"

"Yeah," Joffrey nods, "she's pretty alright." He moans as Sansa inadvertently rubs against the front of his jeans where he's hard. "I'll be thinking about you, Sansa." He brings his lips to hers.

_Snak, snak, snak! _

"What's that?" Joffrey asks, breaking the kiss and looking toward the gated backyard where there's a strange smacking sound. _Snak! Snak!_

Sansa shrugs. "I… don't know. Maybe my brothers are back there—"

"Let's go check it out," Joffrey says, heading toward the gate.

"I should probably get inside—"

"Come on, let's see what's up back there," Joffrey replies, and he's eager to kiss Sansa in front of Robb, to show him who's boss. He unlatches the gate, Sansa right by his side. They step into the yard, curving around the house. The porch light is on and two kids are playing with plastic swords. It's Arya and some tall red-haired kid with freckles. Disappointed, Joffrey turns to Sansa. "It's just your little sister—"

"And the neighbor's boy," she says, and then walks closer to them. "Hey! Arya! It's almost eleven! Why aren't you in bed?"

Arya turns around and sticks out her tongue. "Oh hi, _Sansa._ How was your _date?"_

"None of your business," Sansa says boldly, putting her hands on her hips. "Get in bed! Mom and Dad—"

"They're still at the hospital so Micah and I are just playing. When they get home, I'll go to bed." Arya turns back to Micah and they continue play fighting. _Snak, snak, snak, _go the swords.

"Oh hey, what the fuck kinda dog is that?" Joffrey asks, pointing to the gigantic animal on the porch. It almost looks half wolf and it's huge, the size of a German shepherd. The last time he was at the Starks' house, he saw their dogs but none of them were _this _huge.

"Watch your language!" Arya says rudely. "That's Nymeria. We think she's part pit bull and part timber wolf."

"Dope," says Joffrey.

"Go to bed now!" Sansa insists. "Just because they're not here it doesn't mean you can do whatever you want!"

Arya turns around with her mouth open in protest and Micah knocks her on the shoulder with the sword. "_OW!" _she exclaims and smacks his sword with her own.

Micah laughs. "Think fast, Arya!"

Joffrey glares blearily at the boy. "You think it's funny to hit girls?"

"Arya wants to be a boy, so it's fine," grins Micah, and Joffrey hates his stupid face, the boyish crew cut and chubby cheeks.

"That's my girlfriend's sister you just hit," Joffrey says, crossing his arms. He's beginning to feel hazy and irritable, and he wonders if maybe he's beginning to come down from the pills. Sandor said it would only last a few hours, and that Joffrey would be stupid to use his meds for such a shitty high. Going to bed is probably the best idea.

"Ooh," Micah says. "Your _girlfriend! _Sansa, you have a _boyfriend! _I never thought you'd get a boyfriend! You smell funny!_"_

Sansa shakes her head. "You're mature—"

"How dare you talk to her like that," Joffrey snaps. "I'm going to teach you a lesson!"

"I'm scared," laughs Micah.

"You should be, little boy." He walks toward Micah, narrowing his eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

"Joffrey! He's kidding," Sansa says, but he ignores her.

"Who you are? What does that mean?" Micah asks, fixing Joffrey with a sassy look.

"I'm Cersei Lannister's son. She owns Lannister Hotels," Joffrey says impressively, "_and _my dad runs Baratheon Manufacturing—"

"Uh. Okay," the kid says, laughing quietly.

Arya snorts. "Sansa, get your weird boyfriend out of here—"

"Hey, you little shit," Joffrey snarls. "I'm defending you—"

Arya gasps.

"_Joffrey," _Sansa says in a high voice and grabs his shoulder. He shakes her off.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Micah says. "We're just joking around!"

Joffrey laughs darkly. "That's what's hilarious to me," he says. "You think you're tough? You fucking punk. I'll show you tough. How old are you anyway? Fighting with a plastic sword like a fucking four year old?"

"Dude, I—I'm not doing anything," Micah says, voice going a bit shrill, shrinking back.

"Want to see a real weapon?" Joffrey asks, his voice calm and pleasant. He smiles. "Check this, fucker." He reaches in his back pocket and grabs out his switchblade.

Micah's eyes get wide as Joffrey approaches him. "Dude, you're crazy!"

The word _crazy _hits Joffrey like a slap across the face. "Yeah, call me crazy one more fucking time!" Joffrey says, and he knows it's on, right then. He has to teach this kid some manners. Scare him a little. _Just a little. _

"But you're being crazy!" Micah says, his voice wavering, and Joffrey advances on him.

Sansa gasps. "Joffrey! Oh my gosh, _Joffrey!"_

"What are you doing?" Arya shouts. "Stop!"

Nymeria barks, getting to her feet.

"See this?" Joffrey asks, wearing that dreamy grin again. "Check it out, kid." He whips the blade out and presses it to Micah's neck. Micah is rooted to the ground, whimpering. "Want to see how it works?" Joffrey asks in an elated voice.

"Please stop," the kid whimpers, making Joffrey's heartbeat thump in his chest. _That sweet, sweet fear. _

"See?" Joffrey whispers. "I'm going to teach you respect." He drags the blade slowly across Micah's neck, just enough to draw a very thin line of blood atop the surface of the kid's pasty skin. "Just a little cut," Joffrey says with a smile.

Micah screws his eyes shut and squeals loudly like a little pig. "STOP! PLEASE!" he pants.

Joffrey laughs, his head faintly spinning. "That'll teach you to fuck with me—"

"HEY! QUIT THAT!" shrieks Arya and before Joffrey can do anything, he feels her smack him across the back with her phony sword.

"FUCK!" Joffrey yells. Arya strikes him again and he stumbles. Sansa screams.

Time seems to speed up. Joffrey spins around, feet unsteady. He holds out his arms for balance and grabs Arya, one hand on her neck, blade poised by her face. Arya bites his arm and Joffrey shouts in pain. Nymeria barks and growls, running to their sides, and Micah flees from the backyard, crying. Sansa is pacing and screeching words Joffrey cannot comprehend. Arya ducks out of his grasp but Joffrey grabs her shirt in his hand and pulls her toward him.

"You stupid fucking bitch!" he spits, brandishing the blade to her neck. His body is shaking with anger and his voice comes out in a yowl. "I'll slice your eyes out of your skull and feed them to you!"

"NO!" Arya shouts and she smacks the knife out of Joffrey's hand just as Nymeria dives onto Joffrey, throwing him to the grass and knocking the wind out of him. Joffrey can't breathe and his green eyes are wide open. He is paralyzed by fear as the humongous dog growls deeply and latches onto his arm, tearing through his sweatshirt with her sharp fangs. The pain is excruciating and she's swinging his arm from side to side like a piece of meat. Joffrey catches his breath and hollers, tears running down his face.

The girls are screaming in unison at Nymeria when Joffrey hears the porch door open.

"Hey, hey! What the heck is happening out here?" shouts one of the brothers, and someone is grabbing Nymeria off Joffrey but he's closing his eyes, the tears making them sting. His arm is in a searing amount of pain and when he finally can feel the dog's jaws have left him, he looks to his cut and bleats at the large amount of blood sopping through his shirt.

"I'm calling 911," one of the guys cries out. "Sansa, stay with him for a second and I'll call for help. _Damn it, _Nymeria. Arya, your dog is crazy—"

"It wasn't her fault, Jon!"

The voices carry into the house and Joffrey knows he's alone with Sansa now. She is sobbing loudly and Joffrey wants to protest. He doesn't want her to see him like this, crying on the ground in crazy amounts of pain. He wants her to think he's tough, not some fucking baby. He has Arya to blame for this! _That little cunt._ _She started it! _He bites down, willing the tears in his eyes to go away.

"I'm fine," he gasps as Sansa drops to his side and his face goes bright red. He struggles to move his arm but it's all messed up. He wonders if that awful beast tore him to the bone, and he doesn't want to look, he doesn't want to pass out. Not in front of Sansa.

"My poor Joffrey," she cries out, smoothing his hair. "I can't believe she did that, I can't believe Nymeria, she's protective but not like that, not like—"

"Shut the fuck up," Joffrey croaks. "You think I want to hear you running your mouth right now?"

Sansa's eyes get bigger and she snivels. "_Wh-what?" _

"You heard me. Get the hell away from me and stay away. And don't touch me!" Joffrey commands in a strong tone.

Sansa begins to sob louder and backs away as Joffrey moans, struggling to open up his sweatshirt to see the wound. Blood is everywhere and Joffrey grits his teeth. "Motherfucker," he whimpers, and Sansa's frightened face is the last thing he sees before his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out.

* * *

**Next: **Joffrey wakes up in the hospital where he has many visitors, family members and otherwise. The Starks and the Baratheon-Lannister clan begin to clash. Sansa Stark vies for Joffrey's affection and advocates for their romantic relationship.


	2. Dynamics and Strategy

Part II.

_October 30, 2006. 10:25 pm._

* * *

"What…the…hell…" Joffrey awakes a brief while later to the loud, whining sound of an ambulance booming in his ears. He groans at the loud noise, feeling groggy and slightly ill. His wide eyes search around him and he realizes that he is strapped to a gurney. Joffrey's heartbeat begins to pound and he feels in danger of freaking out. A paramedic is to his left and as his eyes adjust, he recognizes Sansa's half-brother Jon standing by on his right side. "Why are you here?" Joffrey grunts, moving slightly and then, _"Ow!"_ He casts a worried look at his arm, which is wrapped in a large towel.

Jon looks like he doesn't exactly know the answer to Joffrey's question and he stares blankly for a moment before shrugging. "Uhm…Your mom and dad were across town so they drove their own car and they're going to meet us at the hospital. Robb was trying to look for Nymeria when I left. They told me to come with you—"

"Is Nymeria the fucking dog that attacked me?" Joffrey snaps, and it's all coming back now. His heart begins to race and suddenly it's all too much: the ambulance, the blood, the ruined date, the humiliation, and to top it off, Sansa's retarded half-brother standing here like he's been stunned.

"Well, yes," Jon says quietly. He sounds as uncomfortable as Joffrey feels. "What happened, anyway?"

"Your evil little sister and her friend started attacking me with those fake swords and then the dog came out of nowhere and had my entire arm in its damned mouth. Am I still losing blood? Am I going to be scarred for life?" he asks the paramedic. _I can't have a scar. Scars are ugly and uneven and what the fuck am I going to do with a busted ass hand? _ He breathes harder. "Am I dying?"

"No, you aren't dying." Joffrey doesn't care for her tone of voice. She adjusts the towel. "You will have to get stitches and a rabies shot, if the animal hasn't been given its' shots. But you are okay, so just sit back until we reach the hospital—"

"Nymeria is up on all of her vaccinations. And that isn't what Arya said. She said you threatened the neighbor's boy," says Jon with another shrug and a wincing sort of expression and Joffrey decides right then that Jon Snow is a complete fucktard.

Joffrey rolls his eyes, breathing harder. "I don't give a shit what your rat of a sister says-"

"Uh. Please don't talk about her like that," Jon says quietly, flipping his long black bangs out of his eyes, and Joffrey snorts despite his rising blood pressure. "She's a little girl—"

"I'll talk however I want _and _you better believe when I tell my mom what happened, that dog is going to die," he snarls.

"Boys!" scolds the paramedic.

Jon's eyes widen but he is quiet.

The paramedic leans over Joffrey. "Please try to calm yourself. Take a breath-"

"How the HELL am I supposed to be CALM?" Joffrey shouts, and he lets out a strangled cry of frustration, punching the gurney. He can't catch his breath. His face feels hot. "Do you fucking see where I am? Do you see my arm? You stupid bitch!"

"Is he like this all the time?" questions the paramedic. "_Calm down!" _she warns.

Joffrey gulps for air, screwing his eyes shut.

"I don't know him, ma'am, he's a family friend, kind of, that's all. I haven't seen him in years. All I know is he took my sister out and when they came back, our dog bit him-"

"It appears he might be experiencing an anxiety attack. Do you know anything about this?"

"No!" Jon asserts, his eyes flitting about the ambulance. He looks like a damned deer in headlights. "I don't know anything, I'm sorry!"

"Are you on any medications?"

Joffrey does not answer. He feels himself hyperventilating and the paramedic grabs a paper bag and holds it in his face, helping him to prop up his head and instructing him firmly to breathe through his mouth as steadily as he can. Joffrey does as he's told, and tries to calm himself down despite his spinning head. His heart is still pounding harder and after taking a large swallow of air he retches loudly. "Oh fuck, oh, fuck," he says in an apprehensive tone before spitting into the paper sack a few times.

"Are you going to be sick?" the paramedic asks.

Joffrey can't respond. Luckily the bag is there and he's able to lean on his good arm to angle himself over the bag as he throws up bright red streamers of watery vomit. The paramedic flies to attention and helps roll him on his side. Joffrey hates to be sick like this, hates the loss of control and grotesque feeling of his insides twisted to rot. She assists him until he's puked up a good amount and then replaces the bag with another. Joffrey retches again.

"Has he been drinking tonight?" asked the paramedic of Jon.

"What?" Jon asks, looking slightly confused.

"No," rasps Joffrey and spits into the bag. He hopes he doesn't look like he feels: like shit. "Absolutely—ugh-not—"

She stares intently at Jon Snow. "He reeks of booze. Are you sure he and your sister weren't drinking?"

"My sister? No way! At least, I don't think so!" Jon says, shaking his head, and Joffrey is suddenly very glad for Sansa's stupid virtuousness. But he notices that Jon gives him a questioning look and he holds Jon's eye contact, glaring steadily at him.

"Well," the paramedic clucks, "it's clear _this _one was drinking."

Joffrey wants to strangle her. "I wasn't!" he insists.

"Oh great," Jon mutters worriedly and rubs his temples. A few minutes later, the ambulance comes to a stop at North Side Triage and Joffrey is wheeled into the hospital immediately, Jon lingering quietly by his side.

"We've got a pretty serious dog bite," snaps the paramedic at the front desk attendant. "This young man has lost a lot of blood and is experiencing heightened anxiety—he's been very unresponsive and noncompliant in answering my questions but his parents should be here soon. And this is…" She throws a questioning look at Jon who shrugs.

"I'm just Jon Snow," he replies. "A family friend…. Sort of. And I'm only here 'til someone else gets here." The attendant begins to speak but Jon just shrugs his shoulders again and puts up his hand. "I'm telling you," he says, "I don't know anything."

. . .

"Oh, my god, JOFFREY!" bursts out Mom's voice as soon as Joffrey's eyes flutter open. He sees he's now in a hospital bed and his arm has been bandaged up. It still throbs and he grits his teeth. She jumps up from the chair near the bed and runs to his side, her kitten heels clacking on the linoleum. She's dressed to the nines and Joffrey wonders for a second what time it is, and how much she's been told about the terrible night with Sansa.

"Mom," he whines. "What's happening? What's going on? Did I pass out again?"

"You were asleep when I got here," she says softly and tousles Joffrey's hair, taking his hand. "You must be exhausted. This hospital is a piece of shit place. You have an enormous gash in your arm and they haven't even had the decency to schedule you for stitches yet! I _told _Ned and Cat they should have had you delivered to Westeros Hospital but they insisted this was better because it's so close. The doctors are completely unreliable. Just because there was a shoot-out doesn't mean they should be leaving us in the dark for so long! I'm definitely going to complain to the city. Oh, _baby. _What happened?"

Joffrey manages a weak smile, attempting to look as pathetic as possible in case he has to make up a huger lie than he expected. He hopes the fucking paramedic didn't squeal about him puking. "Did Jon say anything? What did the Starks say?"

"Jon? Ned's half-son? He just kind of _stared _at me when I came in and whispered a few things and left. I told him I'd be following up about that vicious mutt, though. All I know is that you were attacked, but Ned's son says you pulled a knife on the youngest daughter?" Mom's green eyes are wide and serious. "Please don't tell me-"

"Do I look like I have any weapons on me?" Joffrey demands, and pats his pocket to make a point. He wishes the blade hadn't fallen out of his grasp and he's slightly nervous one of the Starks will pick it up. Still, it works in his favor right now. "Nothing here, Mom! That little girl is lying about me, and you know it! When I walked Sansa to the front door we heard fighting from the back yard and when I went back to see if everything was okay, Arya and her friend ganged up on me with fake swords. They know martial arts or something," Joffrey puts in quickly, remembering Arya's uniform. His arm throbs harder still. "AH! Are there any pain meds I can take?"

Mom nods. "The nurses were waiting for me to arrive but you've been prescribed Vicodin. They're supposed to be back soon and then they'll take care of you." Her eyes darken. "I knew I was hearing a biased story. Ned and Cat's children are completely wild, save for Sansa. I can't stand them; it's like visiting a zoo with all those slobbering animals and shrieking, rude kids! I'm so glad you aren't worse off, baby, I got here as soon as I could."

"Is Dad coming?" Joffrey asks, cringing at the pain again. He's got a headache, too, which he chocks up to the cheap vodka. _Fucking Sandor. _

"No," says Mom tersely, and Joffrey knows they've been fighting. "He says he hopes you feel okay. As soon as he learned you weren't _dying _he said he needs his sleep for work. Besides, he had to stay back with Tommen and Myrcella."

"Of course," Joffrey mutters, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth.

"Your uncle is coming, though," Mom goes on, adjusting Joffrey's collar.

"Oh God. _Which _uncle?" If it's Tyrion, Joffrey will scream. Tyrion is Mom's younger brother and he's the laughingstock of the family on account of his abnormally short right arm, which has led to his nickname, "The Gimp". Tyrion isn't involved in the hotels like Mom and Uncle Jaime are, because Grandfather Tywin doesn't trust him. Tyrion's a smart ass who spends his days sleeping with random women and drinking his inheritance away. He thinks he's better than everyone because he's apparently super smart but in Joffrey's opinion, he's a total dick.

"Renly," Mom replies with a glower and Joffrey manages a short, snippy laugh. "You just know he's trying to kiss your father's ass as much as he possibly can. It's completely ridiculous for him to even assume he'd be next in line for the company. Even if your father decides to give it up, Baratheon Manufacturing is rightfully yours, Joffrey-"

"I'm only sixteen," Joffrey says, but Mom pats his shoulder gently.

"You'd be better at running that company than Renly or Stannis combined. And your dad isn't going to back out of the business so easily, even though those two would like to ride on his coattails. Besides, it's _my _money that's made Baratheon Manufacturing what it is today, and if either of those pricks thinks I'm going to let them take away your birthright, they're messing with the wrong woman. Lannister Hotels _and _the Baratheon's business will both rightfully belong to you, and then you'll be just as successful as your father _and _your grandfather." Mom tosses back her golden curls. "But you don't need to mention any of this to your Uncle Renly. Okay, Joff?"

"Whatever," Joffrey replies. "Can I get that Vicodin or what?"

Mom hurries off to demand assistance for him and he settles back on the pillows, sighing loudly. Momentarily, Joffrey wonders about Sansa and what she thinks of him now. They'd had a pretty good time and Joffrey had been looking forward to seeing her again but now he's not so sure. He can imagine how he looked, sprawled out on the grass with tears rolling down his face, and it makes him sick to remember it. Sansa's hands in his hair and her blathering voice. _As if I'm a baby or something. _ Joffrey figures he'll play it cool and see what happens. If he never sees the Starks again, it's fine. Sansa is cute and he'd like to fuck her, but he can probably find someone who is far less trouble.

Soon, Mom brings back a nurse who administers Joffrey pain medication and informs them that due to the hectic state of the emergency room, Joffrey is not going to be able to receive stitches for another hour or so. Half an hour later, a doctor ducks in and gives him a few shots but leaves shortly after despite Mom's screaming. She says she's going to flag someone down, that this is just _terrible, _and she leaves Joffrey a second time. As he falls into a pleasant sort of stupor from the pills, there's a loud rap at the door.

"Come in," Joffrey says, expecting a doctor, but when the door swings open it's Renly and Loras. They're dressed up as usual, in similar tight-fitting designer jeans and snappy t-shirts with running jackets, Renly's in onyx and Loras' in green.

Renly sweeps into the room and stares at Joffrey, tossing a peach up in the air and catching it in his palm. "It's not as bad as Cersei made it out to be. Big surprise. We thought you were an amputee." Renly is Joffrey's uncle, though he's not much older than twenty. He's got the black hair and athletic Baratheon build that Dad apparently used to possess, but still, Renly's much slimmer than his brothers. He and Loras have been seeing each other for a while but they act like it's some big secret. Renly was a business major at Princeton and he thinks he's hot shit. Loras wrestles competitively and attends the local school. The two of them are inseparable and obnoxious, always up on the nightlife and social engagements in the city.

Loras snorts into his hand, gold rings glinting on his fingers. "Hi Joffrey," he says in a fake friendly voice.

"Look, it's Rimly and More-Ass," Joffrey remarks in a slow way, eyes heavy. "Mom said you might show your gayces… Oh. I meant faces_. _Ha ha."

"Nice, Joffy," says Renly with a quick roll of his eyes. "We don't have very long. We're going to a party—"

"What _kind _of party?" Joffrey demands, jealous.

"It's going to be more of an amusement than a good time, I'm sure," Loras replies. "Stannis is following some psychic priestess-"

"The fuck?" Joffrey asks. His uncle Stannis is a solemn man of few words but lately, Dad's afraid he's is going off the deep end. He's been trying to start his own business and though money is not lacking, he's not a very popular salesman and his product goes unsold no matter what it is. Lately, he's been going to great lengths (and throwing away a lot of dollars) to prove his place in the family and he's lowered himself to asking advice in the strangest of places.

"Right? It should be completely awful, apparently she's some sort of celebrity psychic, too. Stanny is investing a lot of time into this crazy woman. But hey, there's free wine and we're rolling so it should be hilarious," Renly says. He takes a delicate bite of the peach.

"Give _me _some E!" Joffrey says loudly.

"In your dreams," Loras laughs. "You of all people on Ecstasy? Please."

Joffrey groans. "Why are you two fags here anyway?"

"When we got the call about poor, poor Joff-Joff we just _had _to stop by. You know, just trying to show what a loving uncle I am-"

"Yeah right," Joffrey scoffs. "Look, I know you're trying to suck up to my dad but it ain't going to happen. I know for a fact Grandpa specifically said you can't inherit the company-"

"He specifically said I can't inherit the company if I'm _gay, _Joffy," says Renly with a smirk. "Believe me, I have a plan for that. Operation Margaery." He strokes his black beard jokingly, as if he's thinking of a diabolical plan. _As if. _

"The fuck are you talkin' about?" Joffrey grunts. He's used to scheming; dad's side of the family has been trying to figure out Robert's plans with the company ever since he drunkenly announced he's considering retirement. However, the Baratheon side of Joffrey's family has nothing on the Lannisters. Mom and Uncle Tyrion are constantly trying to one up each other and they fight much, much dirtier.

Loras crosses his arms. "My sister's willing to be a beard," he says. His voice is high and annoying, grating to Joffrey's ears. "Renly's way more capable than Stannis ever will be, and Robert's so sick of the politics of the company. We're going to be on top of this family as soon as we can and soon Mommy Dearest lose all the power she's got over your puppet of a dad—"

"Dad's not ready to retire but even if he was, you're not fooling anyone," Joffrey argues. "Newsflash! You're big faggots and everyone knows it!"

Renly and Loras lock eyes and chuckle. "You have so much to learn," Renly says. "If I get it on paper, I'm technically straight. And your homophobic little mouth won't change a thing. I'd die if you got the company. I'm just not going to let that happen. It shouldn't be too hard to convince Robert. He hates you. Either that or he's still mad Satan knocked up your mom—"

"My dad doesn't hate me!" Joffrey shouts, furious. He tries to sit up in the hospital bed, but the meds have made him too drowsy. "Fuck you, homo!"

"You're so creative with your insults, Joffy. Call me gay again," Renly says with a thin smile. "Seriously. Because I really care."

Just as Joffrey's trying to think of the perfect insult, the door swings open and a hot girl struts in. She's small and slim with long, dark ringlets and she's wearing a low-cut dress. Joffrey gapes at her, half because of the drugs and mostly because he's imagining getting her perky boobs in his mouth. "Who's this?" he asks, eying the girl with a hunger.

"Are you guys almost ready to head out? I don't want to miss any of the party. Oh, hey," she smiles and comes forward to shake his hand. "You must be Joffrey. I've heard a lot of great things about you. I'm Margaery-"

"_You're _Margaery," Joffrey repeats, his eyes flashing to Renly who grins. _Even my gay uncle gets a hot girlfriend! How is this even remotely fair? I hate this goddamn family. _"Wussup, Margaery?" he asks, nodding at her as they shake.

She leans in toward him, her cleavage popping out of her dress. "You have really nice eyes," she compliments. "The nicest I've seen. They're so intensely green." Margaery smiles and purses her lips.

Joffrey wonders if she's ever given head with that sweet mouth. Joffrey almost convinced a girl at the skate park to go down on him by saying he'd kill her dog if she didn't. He'd gotten up close to her, put a hand in her hair and whispered in her ear. _"Why else would a girl hang out at the skate park besides to suck some cock? Come on, do it."_ Unfortunately, she got away.

Joffrey cracks a smile. "Thanks," he says, staring unapologetically at her breasts. Margaery giggles. Joffrey smiles back. "Want to see my arm? It's hella gnarly. This stupid wolf had my whole arm in its mouth-"

Her eyes widen and her hands fly to her mouth. "Oh, Joffrey, I'm so sorry! That looks completely awful. You're so brave, I'd be crying!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty brave," Joffrey grins.

"It seems like it," she replies, and she runs her hand down the length of her dress, watching Joffrey all the time.

"Margaery, be good," warns Renly, sighing. "Whatever you could possibly get out of this one wouldn't be worth it. He's bonkers, remember? You think Stannis is bad? Joffrey takes our family up to a whole new level of insane—"

"Ay," Joffrey says, going red. "Don't be talkin' shit-"

"No matter how much you hang out with that ex-con Clegane, you're not tougher than us," Renly says. "You're still a rich white boy from suburbia. I suggest you speak actual English." Luckily, Margaery does not laugh. Instead she swats Renly in the cheek.

"Fuck you," Joffrey mewls. "Get my mom. Where is she anyway? I want to get out of here. I've been waiting for like, _hours._"

"Your mom is… well, she seems to be shouting at a doctor in the hallway," says Margaery quietly. "She's very pretty, though—"

"See? This is what you have to look forward to," Renly says darkly. "At least Stannis doesn't talk very much. Unlike Damien here." He and Loras laugh.

Joffrey wants to further insult Renly, to tell him to go choke on a cock, but he also wants to look good in front of Renly's hot friend. So he just glares at them as they bid him goodbye. Margaery actually has the decency to wish him a speedy recovery. Finally_, _Mom drags in a doctor and Joffrey gets thirty stitches. They complain about the Starks the entire time, and continue to do so on the drive back to King's Landing. Mom promises Joffrey that the dog that bit him will be put to sleep by the weekend, and that she won't rest until Ned and Cat comply.

. . .

_October 31, 2006._

Mom allows Joffrey to stay home from school the next two days. Joffrey was peeved he missed the only fun holiday he actually likes to be an active participant in, Halloween. He was in a trance for most of his first day off, waking up only to sneer at his brother and sister's ridiculous costumes. They're always the same thing every year: Tommen is a cat, and Myrcella, a princess. Myrcella's costume isn't so bad. She's a girl, and girls always like retarded shit like princesses. But by this point, Joffrey thinks Tommen should be donning a horror movie killer mask and harassing littler kids for candy, like he used to. Joffrey's sad he'll miss out on scaring the neighbors. He checks his Myspace late Halloween night and sees that Sansa has tried to add him, but he ignores it.

* * *

_November 1, 2006._

_. . ._

Since Joffrey's arm is still a little raw, Tommen and Myrcella pick up his share of the chores at his mom's urging and she doesn't even make him eat his meals with the family. The housekeeper brings him buttered toast for breakfast and fluffs his pillows, and he goes back to bed until afternoon, when he finally gets up to shower and play video games. Life's a wonderful, drowsy blur of Vicodin and _Call of Duty. _ His arm is slightly sore and Joffrey hates the ugly black lines of the stitching, but the doctor said that it would be ready to remove in a few weeks, if it heals correctly. Joffrey blasts Insane Clown Posse and masturbates to the magazines he's drawn on, moaning deeply as he looks at the smiling porn girls with pen sketches of nooses around their necks and chains around their wrists. In the early evening he naps hard until his mom wakes him up with her soothing voice, his nightly pills and a plate of food, takeout from his favorite place.

"Can you describe the dog that attacked you?" Mom asks, making notes in her Blackberry as Joffrey cuts his steak burrito with a knife and fork in slow, precise motions.

"Hugest dog I've ever seen in my entire life," Joffrey says. "Big fangs, and grey. It was hard to see because it was so dark out and it just came out of nowhere and knocked me down."

Mom snaps the device shut and crosses her arms, shaking her head. "You know, people have died from attacks from _small _dogs before! We're so lucky you weren't hurt anymore than this, Joffrey. I just don't know what I'd do without you."

"I'll probably have disgusting scars," Joffrey laments, pulling up his sleeve and staring dejectedly at the imperfect stitching. "What if they never heal? When I wear a t-shirt or go swimming or whatever, people will stare at me—"

"Just tell them how you survived an attack from a wolf and they'll admire you the way they should," she says, her eyes squinting as she smiles knowingly at him. "They'll want to know all about it. Besides, we'll look into plastic surgery if it's too grotesque."

"You're right," says Joffrey proudly, and for a moment he forgets how it all really happened, preferring to bask in the glow of his mother's vision of him.

"How's your hand?" booms Dad as he sticks his head into the room. He's wearing one of his suits, jacket and all, and Joffrey knows he's just gotten home from work, which makes him glad. Dad's first move wasn't to go change and mix a cocktail as he usually does. He came right to Joffrey's room to check up on him.

Joffrey holds out his arm, resisting the urge to smile out of excitement of being in the rare company of his father. "It's my whole arm, Dad. See? That dog really got me."

Dad comes in and eyes the wound. "That is pretty brutal, Joffrey." He clears his throat and Mom looks at him expectantly. "It's good this is all it was. But I really can't wrap my head around the fact you say you were attacked by two sixth graders."

"That wasn't-" Joffrey begins, before realizing he's stuck. He has to stay with the same story, only it worked really well to con Mom and with Dad, Joffrey's embarrassed. He wants Dad to look at him as tough, not easily overcome by little boys and girls. "Well, my back was turned," he says testily with a great shrug and he settles back on his pillows. Mom takes his empty plate from him and sets it on the nightstand. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Act your own age and not like a five year old sissy," Dad says and gives a short, low laugh, shaking his head. "Honestly, Joffrey, that girl's the size of a squirrel."

"They both _hit _me from _behind,_" Joffrey says, going red and the more times he says it, the truer it sounds. "I swear on it!"

Dad shakes his head. "When you squeal like that, you even _sound _like a little girl-"

"I don't!" Joffrey protests. "Dad, believe me! You have to!"

"When I was sixteen, I wasn't getting punked by twelve year olds," Dad says. "I was fighting guys bigger than me, competing in sports, and I had respect for myself. You slither around and let your mother fight your battles for you!"

"Dad!" Joffrey shouts. Tears are welling up in his eyes, and he balls his fists.

"You're upsetting him," Mom snaps. "Why are you talking to him like that, after all he's been through? The Stark children are little beasts! Their dogs are better trained than they are!"

Dad whirls around to face Mom. "Cersei, put yourself in my shoes! My son's saying one thing, Ned's kid another! What am I supposed to do?"

"Believe your son, for once!" Mom says instantly, just as Joffrey sits up.

"What are they saying about me?" he demands. "Who's talkin' crap? Arya? Sansa?"

Dad stokes his beard in thought. "Arya says you attacked the neighbor boy, and then pulled a knife on her-"

"We spoke about this, Robert. It's not true," Mom replies, getting to her feet. Her red silk dress shines in the glow of Joffrey's huge television upon which _Mortal Kombat _ is muted. "What does Sansa say? She's a good girl-"

"Sansa says she didn't see anything. She says it was too much of a blur," Robert goes on, "but I wouldn't be surprised if she was too scared to talk. Ned says she's been acting weird all day like she was in a daze. You're sure you're telling the truth about how it played out, Joffrey? This is your chance to be honest."

"Of course I'm telling the truth," Joffrey says earnestly. Joffrey is happy Sansa didn't take her sister's side. He does not know what this means exactly, but it endears Sansa to him far more than before. He hopes Sansa's brothers did not notice she was slightly intoxicated and that Jon kept the events in the ambulance to himself. _If I hear he was spreading that around, I'll kick his ass. _His parents don't care that he drinks at home, but Joffrey just knows he'd be busted if they knew he was driving, not to mention corrupting Ned's perfect daughter.

Robert's eyebrows raise. "And the knife?"

"I didn't have a knife. I swear! I already told Mom!"

"So what about the switchblade that Ned found in the backyard?" Robert asks. Joffrey tries to think of a convincing story. Dad already looks skeptical.

"Don't do this, Robert,"hisses Mom.

"It belonged to that neighbor kid!" Joffrey asserts in a louder voice. "Micah or whatever his name was! He pulled it out of his pocket and threatened me!"

Mom turns around. "You didn't mention that to me, Joff!"

"I didn't want you to worry," Joffrey lies at once.

"See, Robert? Look how scared he is!"

"Cersei, let me speak to Joffrey alone!" Dad asserts, raising his volume and Joffrey's heartbeat races. Sometimes he's numb and other times, the family drama rattles him and makes him unsteady, setting off his anxiety like no other. There are only some times when Joffrey is apprehensive around Robert. Joffrey doesn't like to see his dad act like a jolly drunk clown in public. When Dad hits on other women or makes perverse jokes, it's embarrassing. But far worse is when Dad loses his temper and Joffrey gets flashbacks from when he was a little kid. The flashes of memory are blurry but Joffrey finds himself still slightly edgy. As he remembers it, Dad only hit him once or twice and Joffrey has no recollection why this occurred, only that he wishes his father loved him the same way he loves Myrcella and Tommen. Dad's _never _physically abused Joffrey's siblings, but in Dad's words, _"they don't act like little shits". _

Joffrey watches as his mother finally exits the room, and Dad looms over him. "What do you want me to say?" Joffrey finally asks, keeping his tone quiet and trying to stay cordial.

Dad sighs. "Ned is my best friend, as you know. I gave him my word that you would take Sansa out and treat her with respect. I gave him my word you wouldn't screw up-"

"I didn't screw up!" Joffrey says at once, eyes darkening. "Why do you always blame me? I didn't do anything bad, Dad. And Sansa had a great time. Ask her! Just ask her! She was happy to be off her leash!"

"Watch your tone, Joffrey."

"I'm serious, Dad! The Starks are way backwards. I don't see how you're friends with them-"

Dad furrows his black brows and sits beside Joffrey, sending a quick, disapproving glance toward the television. He looks back at Joffrey. "So, dog attack aside, you didn't enjoy the date at all?"

"I didn't say that, did I?"

"Stop being smart and answer my question."

"She's okay," Joffrey says, but he still hates that she saw him hurt and crying. She probably thinks he can't protect her at all, not now. At least Renly's friend called him "brave", but Sansa wouldn't. Why would she? She saw him bested by her sister and bitten by a stupid dog. "I don't know, Dad. I probably won't go out with her again. Not after what happened. I can do much better."

"Because you leave your room so often?" Dad quips. "Joffrey, honest to Christ, you promised me you'd act right!"

Joffrey's chest seizes up and he feels in danger of lashing out again but he has to try hard to keep his cool around Dad. Dad won't stand for a tantrum, and he doesn't pity Joffrey's tears or mood swings. Dad was hoping that Joffrey would only need a few therapy sessions, but when Dr. Varys said Joffrey needed extensive care, it was obvious Dad was irritated. He was even more pissed when Joffrey got put on Aderol and Paxil. Robert had shouted for the first time in months at that.

_"My son can't function without pills! He's a goddamn wreck! I never had these problems! Why can't Joffrey just be normal?" _he'd yelled, when Cersei had delivered Dr. Varys' news. _ "He is normal, Robert! He just has some minor problems," _Mom had countered, _"and hopefully, the medications will help him!" _ Dad had snorted and shaken his head. _"How did I ever get cursed with a son like this? You think pills are going to stop him? He harasses girls at school! His teacher is scared of him, for Hell's sake! He told Tommen he's going to chop up his hamster!" _ Mom had raised her voice, slammed her hands on the counter. _"No one can prove those things! You are so biased against him and I'm so tired of it! Just because he's not a big dumb jock like you were, Robert! It doesn't mean he's not a good boy!" _ When they'd seen Joffrey standing behind them, they'd pretended everything was okay as usual.

Joffrey takes a deep breath. "I tried my best, Dad. But the Starks are freaks."

"Well, that's great, Joff. Just great. Apparently, Sansa had a good time. When I asked Ned what Sansa said, he told me she was so head-over-heels with you, he could barely get any sense out of her about the fight."

Joffrey grins arrogantly. "Really? He said that? She liked me?"

"Yes," Dad says hesitantly. "You must've done _something _right— did you like her company?"

"It was fine enough," Joffrey says, staring at the _"Exorcist" _poster behind his father's head. "She's kind of a dork."

"Just because she isn't up on every stupid new trend like you and your mother doesn't mean you should give up on her, Joff. Sansa's a good girl, she'd be a good influence on you. I've been wanting you to try being friends with the Stark boys again, too and this is the perfect way for you to make a bond with their family. You need to apologize for whatever happened with that damn dog, even if you don't care, and spend some time over there. Robb and Theon are into basketball, and they—"

"They're douches, Dad. I hate them. They were mean to me," Joffrey whines.

"Joff, give them a chance! Ned's my-"

"Best friend," Joffrey chirps sarcastically. "Right. Like I'd _ever _forget. You know, Sansa can't even stay out past eleven. She wears knee-length skirts. She says _gosh_ like she's in the damned fourth grade! You should ask Ned what his deal is, why he's treating his own kids like criminals. He doesn't have to act like a cop 24/7, and I hate Cat, she's a total hard ass. You should've seen how she looked at me because I almost said _shit _in front of her, like oh my fucking god, it's not the end of the world!"

"If you think it's okay for me to ask Ned those questions then would you say it's fine for him to interrogate me about why I have such a spoiled, dramatic asshole for a son?" Dad says in a dry tone, and Joffrey goes even redder. "Do you hear the things that come out of your mouth? Or do you enjoy hearing your own voice so much you just can't control yourself?"

"_Dad!" _Joffrey protests, but Robert gets up, looking at him in disgust. "I didn't do anything wrong! I treated Sansa right! Obviously I did! I didn't say anything weird, just like you said! Otherwise Ned would have said something! Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he?" Joffrey's voice is rising.

Dad continues to stroke his beard, a bit nervously. "It's true, he would have. Calm down, Joffrey. Calm down."

"I'm calm," Joffrey says, breathing hard. "All we did was go to dinner and a movie, and I even let her pick what movie, you can even ask! And I held her hand and walked her to her door and went in and talked to Ned and Cat beforehand like I was supposed to, and everything!"

"No wonder she's smitten with you. Apparently she's had a crush on you for years," Dad says in a light tone, his face finally softening. "So if you had an alright time, why are you being so difficult? Why won't you take her out again, Joffrey?"

"Well, things got all fucked up with the dog…" Joffrey trails off. _I don't need to tell Dad how embarrassed I was. He thinks I'm a pussy anyway. I don't need him to think even worse of me. _

"If it wasn't your fault, why care? Sansa's a beautiful girl and I would have been happy to take her out when I was your age!" Dad replies and wiggles his brow. "You shouldn't give up on her so easily."

"Ugh, gross, Dad," says Joffrey not wanting to know what Dad thinks about Sansa. He's rolling his eyes, but laughs. It's difficult to think of Dad in high school, even if Joffrey's seen tons of his football pictures. Dad was the most popular guy in school and would've probably beaten Joffrey up, which is hard to think about. It's no wonder he thinks Joffrey's a geek. Joffrey would do anything to make Dad think otherwise, but Dad isn't impressed with his high scores on online shooter games, or his precision with knives. Dad isn't even impressed by his high science grades, preferring him to be strong in sports and debate. Would Dad be happy if Joffrey and Sansa dated? _Truly _happy? "I think she's cute. I just… I don't know… I mean…I did kind of ask her to be my girlfriend, but that was before everything went wrong."

"Your girlfriend? Jesus, what is it with you kids? You don't know her well enough, I'd expect you'd at least want to take her out a few more times… But, I guess that's pretty normal for teenagers now."

Joffrey is confused. He thought Dad _wanted _him to have a girlfriend, but he's happy that Dad thinks something he's done can be considered "normal". Mom tells Joffrey he's normal, but it isn't enough.

Dad sighs before going on. "I suppose this is better than you hating her. I'm kind of surprised, actually. And I'm proud of you, Joff." Joffrey beams. "If Ned wants you around her again, I guess it's not a bad idea-"

"Why wouldn't he want me around her?" Joffrey demands. "I told you I didn't do anything wrong! I told you that!"

"Yes but, Mom wants to put their dog to sleep. Apparently the dog ran off, but Mom's saying we'll get it taken care of somehow. The Starks have six dogs, and your lunatic mother is threatening that she'll make sure one of them dies if she can't track down Nymeria. You can imagine that's not going over very well but she's insisting it happens by Saturday. I told Ned he really shouldn't have a wolf and pit hybrid anyway. It was bound to bite someone someday but you should probably tell the Stark kids you're sorry."

"Sounds like they're hiding it. I bet they've got it in their house somewhere and they don't even care it bit me," Joffrey responds. "I'm going to tell Mom. She'll go over there and make sure it's dealt with _and _she'll get Arya to apologize to me."

Dad waves his hands. "I don't even want to be involved in this bullshit," he says with a short laugh. "I need a drink." But then, it seems he's thinking because he stares at the floor and continues. "You know… At some point, you're going to need to learn to take care of yourself, Joffrey. You're going to seventeen in June and you're still letting Mom take care of you. I know you have a hard time dealing with…uh… with things sometimes but you really should start working on being more responsible. Your mom is pushing for you to run the business but I just don't know if you're trustworthy."

"Of course I'm trustworthy. Besides, it'll be a long time before I have to," Joffrey says.

"Do me a favor and call Sansa tomorrow, Joff. Apologize about the dog and make a date. Ned says she's eager to see you again but she's shy-"

"But my _arm,_" Joffrey whines. "I don't want her to feel sorry for me. She saw me hurt and I didn't like when she babied me."

"Well," Dad says with a laugh, "if you don't want her to treat you like a baby, don't be one."

Joffrey's mouth falls open. "I'M NOT A BABY!" he shouts. At Robert's look, he pouts. "Okay, okay, okay. I'll call Sansa. _Jeez. _ I'll call her and say sorry and whatever else you want me to say, Dad. I'll be normal, just like you said, okay?"

"Good. I'm glad you're being mature," Dad says, nodding. He rises to his feet. "I'll see you later!"

"But wait!" Joffrey exclaims, sitting up. "Where are you going? Do you have stuff to do? You should check out my combo on Mortal Kombat, it's awesome-"

"No, Joffrey. You need to hang back and rest. Ned and I are meeting for drinks and your mom is going over to Uncle Jaime's to work out plans for the society ball. Thank God Jaime has patience for that shit. I certainly don't." He gives a booming laugh. "I'll put a good word in for you with Ned, okay? Tommen and Myrcella are just watching a movie downstairs. Sandor will be over to check up on you kids in a bit-"

"I don't need him to check up on me. I can be alone here with them," Joffrey declares, even though he likes Sandor's company. He's irritated Dad would abandon him for the company of Ned, but that's nothing new.

Dad pauses in the doorway, looking back with an expression Joffrey can't read. "Well…" he says, "it won't hurt for him to stop by, will it?" With that, he bids Joffrey a goodnight and leaves the bedroom.

…

"What's up, Joffrey? You okay?"

Joffrey looks up from the television where he's been watching _"Silence of the Lambs" _on cable to see Sandor standing near his bed, dreads down around his serious face. "Oh what up, dog? I'm cool. Got bitten by the Starks' crazy wolf, though. You should've seen this dog, Sandor, it was huge!"

Sandor gives a deep, short chortle. "Y'know, when your mom texted me, I thought you had crashed your car. That's what ran through my mind first. I'm glad you didn't roll your crazy ass and die. You know, Joff, a lot worse shit could've gone down. You are lucky as fuck, my dude."

"Nah," Joffrey says, trying to blink away his grogginess. "What time is it, even?"

"Just after ten. Your brother and sister are in bed and I'm gonna hang out here until your dad's home-"

"Since when are you a babysitter?" Joffrey laughs.

Sandor looks away. "I'm not. I wanted to see your legendary scar. Your mom really has her panties in a bunch over this shit. It doesn't look too bad."

"Yeah, my mom kinda exaggerated," Joffrey puts in, trying to muster a casual look as he rubs his eyes.

"Yeah, she tends to do that about you. Anyway, how was the date with Sansa Stark? Was she impressed by your gentile manners and gangsta ways?"

"You know it, bra," Joffrey says. "Sansa totally wanted my cock, I would've gave it to her if that fucking dog hadn't've jumped on me—"

"Psh. Yeah right, she wanted your cock," Sandor says dryly, but he's smiling. Joffrey figures he's trying to be nice instead of cynical for once, and it's cool to get sympathy. It makes Joffrey feel special. "Bet you didn't even give her a hug."

Joffrey snorts. "I'll have you know I kissed her up in the movies. With _tongue. _Plus, I got her wasted—"

"Joffrey, you are fucking out of control!" Sandor says, but he laughs. "Huh. What _would_ the Starks do?"

"Who cares? She's mine now and I can get her to do whatever I want," Joffrey grins. "I told my dad I'll take her out again—"

"Sounds healthy," Sandor comments. "She's okay, Joff. A bit square but okay."

"You think I should drop her?" Joffrey asks, interested in his dog's opinion. After all, Sandor is the only guy he really hangs around whose opinion he actually respects, beyond his dad.

"Why the fuck would you _drop _her, Joff? She's nice. Just… you know. Be cool," Sandor says. "Little Hannibal the Cannibal, huh?" he asks jokingly. He settles down in the chair by Joffrey's bed for a bit and they fall silent, tuning into the movie. Joffrey hasn't seen this movie before and he's slightly disappointed that the serial killer Buffalo Bill is only keeping women in the well in order to make a skin suit out of them. It seems like a waste.

Joffrey looks over at Sandor. "Why doesn't he fuck 'em first?"

"I think that dude's gayer than your uncle Renly," Sandor says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Still," Joffrey says slowly. "I'd like this movie a hell of a lot more if there was some real action. I just think it's weird he'd want to kill 'em and only use a little patch of their skin. He's got this girl as his captive and he doesn't even have sex with her."

Sandor turns and locks eyes with him. "What the _fuck _are you talking about?"

Joffrey shrugs. "Just sayin'." They fall silent once more.


	3. Under Control

_November 2, 2006. _

"Morning, baby," greets Mom from the table as Joffrey walks slowly into the kitchen. She's in a business casual black dress suit instead of the usual flashy suit or dress and jewelry, and Joffrey wonders why she's at home. He rubs his eyes blearily and nods at her, pulling at the waistband of his red boxers. "How are you feeling? How's your arm?"

Joffrey shrugs. The pain is nearly non-existent now but he wouldn't mind hanging back from school a few more days. "It still really hurts," he says, his voice gruff with sleepiness. The Vicodin makes him more tired than usual, even more than his old anti-depressants.

Mom looks sad. "I'm sorry," she says. "I let you sleep in, but I figured I'd ask if you'd like to go to school—you know, you really shouldn't miss much more. I'd give you a ride and pick you up—"

"No. I'm not going. So, why are you home?" he asks coldly, stretching.

"I took a day off for meetings, and to catch up on finances. Your uncle Jaime has been so busy, we haven't been book-keeping as well as we could. I'm meeting with Petyr later to make sure we're all in order."

Joffrey nods, hoping he doesn't have to see Petyr. _Petyr. _No one calls the Lannisters' spindly and oily-voiced accountant by his real name; he's Littlefinger to Joffrey and everyone else, but he detests the name. Joffrey doesn't blame him- it evokes pretty terrible imagery. Petyr's weird but a shrewd businessman, and aside from accounting for Lannister Hotels and Baratheon Manufacturing, he owns several successful gentleman's clubs in the city. _"Only the finest girls for the finest clientele," _Littlefinger always says, and Joffrey tries not to think about Dad visiting one of the establishments. He doesn't exactly care about Dad's infidelity, but he doesn't want to imagine his father getting a lap dance from some hot babe only a few years older than himself. Joffrey would like to go sometime but he shudders to think about running into his own dad there. "Where's Georgiana?" Joffrey asks, looking around for the housekeeper. "I need something to eat."

"She asked to take a day off," Mom says slowly. "My guess is she won't last much longer. It seems we can never keep maids for more than a month. It's unbelievable how poor of a work ethic these _people_ have." She shuts her Macbook and glances up at Joffrey. "Why don't you have a seat? I can make you anything you want—"

"You cooking? Jesus," Joffrey says with a smirk, flopping down at the kitchen table and putting his head in his hands. Mom laughs at his comment, and rises to her feet, smoothing her tailored suit. "Fuck, I'm tired. Just make me a bagel or something. I don't want much. This medicine's got me all wacked out."

"This is nice, isn't it? The two of us," says Mom lightly while opening kitchen cabinets. It's strange to see her in uncharted territory; Mom's a terrible cook, and stays away from the kitchen by choice unless it's to mix a cocktail or open a bottle of wine. Joffrey grunts a response, resting his head on the table. "I have a phone meeting with the Utica location today at three but I thought we'd go over to the Starks in a bit. I spoke with Catelyn and told her the description of the one that attacked you. She says the dog is still missing and I told her I'd have one of her dogs, I don't give a fuck. They're all the same, aren't they? They're all half-wild and bound to bite innocent people. Why anyone needs more than one dog is beyond me. Who in their right mind gets a dog for all their children? Honestly, it's ridiculous. Tommen can't even handle a cat. Do you know he left it in the dryer the other night? I swear, I don't know what gets into his head. Sometimes I'm worried he pulls these stunts for attention."

Mom throws Joffrey a look and he snorts, shrugging. _Good. No one found out._ A second later, the bagel pops and she sets it on a plate, pushing it in front of Joffrey with a container of cream cheese. "Is there coffee, Mom?" he asks, sticking a knife into the tub.

"The espresso machine isn't working. We can get you coffee when we get back from the Starks. We'll go to a café. Won't that be fun?"

"Whatever, I wanted it now but okay." Joffrey says, rolling his green eyes to the ceiling. He takes a bite of the bagel but the taste of it makes him feel slightly ill. He tosses it back on his plate. "If she says the dog is missing, what are we supposed to do? Are you going to go over there and fight her?" Joffrey doesn't care that the Starks have a million dogs, but he does want justice for his injury. It would serve them right for embarrassing him like that. He knows from watching television that dogs that attack people need to be put to sleep. Why the Starks think they're above the law is beyond him.

Mom laughs, a snarky but musically feminine sound. She sits across from Joffrey at the table. "I'm not going to fight anyone, Joffrey."

"You could probably win. She's a fucking religious freak. She might smack you with a bible but that's all," Joffrey says with a wry grin and Mom laughs again.

"We need to meet Animal Control at the house," Mom says, solemn once more. "After Cat and I discussed the dog situation, I told her how very sorry I am that Bran is still in a coma. She spilled to me that she'd be at the hospital all day and so we're going to go over there on our own while all those brats are at school and we're going to make sure we get one of their dogs taken away. Who knows? Maybe they're hiding the one that bit you. Maybe we'll find it in the backyard." She reaches out her hand across the table. "Let me see your arm."

Joffrey complies, making a wincing face as he stretches out toward her. "It's so _ugly,_" he says hatefully, observing the stitches with malice.

"It looks so much better, though. It really does." She runs a hand on the outlining of the stitches.

"_Ow,_" Joffrey protests, though it does not hurt, and he bristles.

"Shh, now, it's nearly healed. It will be fine, Joff. Do you want me to put any ointment on it?"

"No," Joffrey says, shaking his head, his slightly mussed up hair swinging from side to side. They stare at his wound in silence for a moment before Joffrey speaks. "Renly says Dad won't make me benefactor of the company. He says I'm crazy, Mom. And he says Stannis is crazy, too, and that he'll marry a girl if he has to, that girl Margaery he brought with him-"

"That's not going to happen," says Mom in a crisp tone, and she grips Joffrey's hand. Her wedding ring is cool against his skin. "Renly's not going to get the company. He's already got a very good position there. It makes me sick he'd be so greedy, and that little slut he paraded around through the hospital isn't going to fool anyone—"

"She was okay—"

"Of course _you _think so, Joff. She _wants _you to like her. She's a Tyrell. She has her grandmother's money but she tries to latch on to any man who she thinks will get her ahead. They've got their own ideas about how things should go. Trust me, she's not a good girl. She'd suck any dick to get ahead." _Cool, _Joffrey thinks. Mom keeps ranting. "And obviously, she and her brother have worked out some sort of scheme to get at the Baratheons' money, but don't you worry. I'm making damn sure that I'm Robert's benefactor, and then you'll get the company when you're eighteen. You'll be ready—"

"Is Dad really retiring soon?" Joffrey whines. "I don't like working. I'm not going to be in business. I want to drop my rap album or I want to work at the police station. Uncle Jaime says-"

Mom interrupts him, speaking softly. "Joffrey, you'll be a fantastic businessman. It's in your blood. On both sides. Your father has been considering it, and Petyr is helping us to make the best possible decision. You're his son. It's _your_ company. Not Renly's. And absolutely not Stannis'. You'll see, Joffrey. You'll enjoy being in charge. You were born to it. It's more than a corporation. You'll hold an important role in matters in the city. Voice your opinions. Fund programs. Attend charity parties and donate money to the causes you care about, and you'll be a great leader."

Joffrey shrugs. "I wouldn't mind telling people what to do. And spending my money."

"Well, there's more to it than that," Mom says, but Joffrey is no longer listening. Despite hating responsibility, Joffrey likes the idea of being head of Baratheon Manufacturing. His family holds so much power in the city that Joffrey figures he could control people and change things to his liking. A proper title would earn him much deserved respect. Respect would make him important, and would win him friends and girls would flock to him. Girls like money and power. _Girls like Margaery Tyrell. _ Despite his mother's warning, Joffrey wouldn't mind fucking her. He'll settle for Sansa, though. He's decided he'll call her tonight and see what their situation is.

**. . .**

When they arrive at the Starks in Mom's large Benz SUV, she scans the driveway. "Good. No one's home. Animal Control should be here shortly. Remember, Joff. Go along with what I say. Alright?"

"Yeah, sure, Mom," says Joffrey with a shrug, wishing he was still at home asleep. He'd decided not to take his meds today due to feeling groggy from the pain pills and he feels a wave of oddness trailing over him. "What are we supposed to do? Go back there and look? There's no way I'm going to get bit again."

"Let me take care of that," she responds, and she grabs her purse from the backseat, the gold Gucci shining in the autumn sunlight as they step out of the vehicle.

"What if you get bit, Mom? Then what?"

She opens up her bag and shows Joffrey the gold pistol that's inside. "I'm prepared. Now, don't tell your dad I was out with this. He doesn't approve of me carrying, but a woman needs to be protected at all times."

"Jesus, Mom," Joffrey says. He's seen this gun sometimes when he opens up the safe, and wondered why Dad had a normal gun along with his hunting rifles. He wants to ask Mom what it's for but figures this isn't the time. He waits for Mom as she goes behind the house, wondering if maybe he can have a gun of his own. It would only be fair. Joffrey's salivated over glocks and machine guns on the internet and in his games, and he thinks it would be exciting to custom design his own weapon in real life.

There's a scattered amount of barking and finally emerges holding tightly to the collar of a gray, large dog. It looks half-timber wolf like the other one, but it's not quite as large. This dog pants agreeably and has its tongue out. "The name tag says Lady," Mom scoffs. "She fits the description. We've got the dog. This is her, isn't it?"

Joffrey stares at it and slowly shakes his head. A light breeze ripples through the yard and he immediately pulls his hood up, not wanting to ruin his hair. "Nah. The one that got me had a retarded name, something that stood out. Not Lady. And this dog's smaller. Can we go? My head fucking hurts. Get me out of here."

"You said the dog was gray and big. This is a big, gray dog. Let's just tell them this is it, and we can be done with it," Mom says, and Lady whines, licking Mom's hand. "Disgusting," Mom says.

A big white van pulls alongside the driveway, and a burly dude gets out wearing a bright blue uniform. "Missus Lannister," he says. "Roger Darth. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes, Roger, this is the dog that bit my son!" Mom says at once. She smiles, her features lighting up like her purse. "I'd shake your hand, but…"

"Missus Lannister, I spoke to the Stark woman about this. She called me right after you did, actually. She said she was a bit suspicious of your story and she emailed me a photo of the dog that bit your son. Nymeria? Half pit? This dog's not a pit. She's half wolf, half boxer. Not a pit," he repeats, and Joffrey sighs aloud. Mom doesn't like being told she's wrong.

As Joffrey expects it will, Mom's shining smiling dips into a frown. "Excuse me," she says, "you do know who I am, don't you? I'm Cersei Lannister and this is my son Joffrey. Joffrey _Baratheon. _Who was _viciously attacked _by this dog-"

"Ma'am, this is not the same dog. Look, I know who you are. And I respect the work you've done for the city, but I also know Ned Stark. We have a good relationship with the police. He wouldn't lie about this and neither would his wife. They're real honest people," Roger goes on. He clears his throat. Joffrey doesn't like his tone, and he doesn't like the way he's talking to Mom.

"And we aren't?" hisses Mom, and Lady lets out a small bark, wagging her tail.

"Not what I said, ma'am," Roger says quickly. "I just know Ned—and if the dog in question returns, Ned's promised he'll put her to sleep. They're responsible with their pets. Cat regrets the dog bit your son, but there's nothing they can do. I think you should leave their property, Missus Lannister."

"THIS IS THE DOG!" Mom shouts, and Lady lets out a yelping bark.

"Here, I can take this dog back to the yard. You can leave."

"You don't get to tell me what to do. I practically own this city!" Mom snaps. "My step-brother James is a police officer, too! And I've funded more than half of the fucking programs in the city, and that _includes _Animal Control! Do you want me to report you, Roger?" Her tone is sugary again, a sure sign she's about to lose it. Joffrey cracks his knuckles and eyes the dog. All they have to do is get the dog out of there and Mom will be happy.

"Ma'am," Roger says. "Like I said, I know what you're doing and—"

"You don't have a fucking clue!" Mom says. Lady barks again. "I want this dog taken away! I want payment! I want the Starks' dogs put to sleep! They can't handle their animals!"

"I need proof!" Roger says.

Joffrey gets a bright idea. "Mom, let go of that dog," he says. "Give me your keys."

Mom raises her eyebrow. "Joff, what-"

"Just hand them over," he says. "Do it. Trust me. I got this." Mom drops Lady's collar and the stupid dog wags its tail again, staying by Mom's side. Joffrey strides over and snatches the keys. "Now sit. Stay." Lady obeys. "Make her keep sitting, Mom. And get out of the way."

"Joff-"

"What are you doing?" asks Roger, and Joffrey decides if he has to hear this guy's nasally voice anymore he's going to scream.

"Doing what you can't do," Joffrey says. "This fucking dog bit me and it's gonna bite other people and if you can't listen to my mom, then I know what's got to go down." Without another word, he jumps into the driver's seat of the Benz, and fires up the engine. His head feels woozy, lost. Maybe he should have taken his medicine. But there's no time to think about that. Joffrey focuses ahead.

"Joff?" shouts Mom again, though she steps back. Lady barks again, staying rooted to the spot. Retarded fucking animal.

"_Good dog," _Joffrey grins crookedly, then guns the engine and drives straight up the driveway right toward Lady. It's easy, the dog doesn't even budge and Joffrey hits her firmly with the front of the SUV. Lady delivers a yelp and Joffrey stops the car. Lady rolls up slightly on the hood of the car, then flops down on the pavement.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" shouts Roger, running to Mom's side.

Mom looks panicked. Her face is white. "Joffrey!" she says in an urgent voice.

"Is she dead?" he asks out the window. No one answers, so he drives forward once more and hears the impact of the dog against the car again. Joffrey rolls the car back and hops out. "Now she is," he says casually. "See, Mom? Problem solved."

"Oh my god," mutters Roger. "What the hell, lady? What kind of messed up plan is this? Who DOES THIS?"

"Uhm-oh-Jesus…" Mom trails off, muttering worriedly, and Joffrey wonders what's wrong with her. He fixed the dog issue, just like she wanted. Now there's nothing amiss, until Nymeria comes back and in that case Ned already said she'd be put to sleep. Now Mom doesn't have to worry and Joffrey's even with the Starks. _Win-win for the Joff. _ "Joffrey—what were you—"

"Are you psychos?" sputters Roger, and as Joffrey looks up from inspecting the dog's large, mangled body, he realizes there's fear on the animal control officer's face. Joffrey strides to the side of the car and watches the man, indifference written on his smooth face. Roger backs up. "I mean, I heard you Lannisters were backwards but this is something else. I need to… I need to call the cops, I need to call someone—I need—" He continues to sputter and drops his phone on the pavement, scurrying to pick it up.

Mom walks forward and steps on Roger's cell phone with a perfectly placed heeled foot. He stops grasping for it and stares up at her, mouth open wide. "You don't need to do anything, Mister Darth. You don't need to do anything at all. Now, stand up and forget about the phone and we'll see whether or not we can work out a deal."

"A-a _deal?" _Roger gets to his feet, still eying his phone. His eyes flash up to meet Mom's. "What in the hell do you mean, a _deal? _Your son just killed an innocent animal, is he a mental case or what?"

"Hey, listen up, you dipshit," snarls Joffrey, and is about to go on but Mom throws him back a solemn glance.

"Joffrey, stop. I'm going to fix this. We weren't here. The Starks will assume she's missing, just like their other mutt. Maybe this will teach them to take better care of their pets. You take her and you dispose of her. How does that sound?"

"I don't like this," Roger mutters. "I don't want to go along with this, I don't care who you are—"

"Well, would a thousand dollars change your mind?" asks Mom.

Roger releases a strangled sound from his throat. "What? Oh, God. No, you can't buy me off. This is the craziest, I just can't-"

"How about two thousand?"

Joffrey smirks as Roger's facial expression changes ever so slightly. Likely this guy's got a pathetic family living in a dingy old apartment somewhere in the Flea Bottom district. It's amazing what people will do for money.

"Well-I… Shit," Roger mutters. "I—I still don't like this, but…"

"I'm glad we could strike a deal," says Mom, and she opens up her Gucci bag, rifling around for a moment. "Joffy," she says offhandedly, "please get this gentleman's phone and hold onto it until our transaction is done." He obeys her, holding the old flip phone in his hand and staring the guy down. Roger averts his gaze. "Here you are. A check from the Lannisters for two thousand. I expect you won't be making any phone calls today? Won't tell the boys at Animal Control?" She holds the check out in front of her and it flaps slightly in the breeze.

"No, ma'am. No, Missus Lannister. I won't tell anyone," Roger says quietly, and Mom hands off the check. Joffrey shoves his phone back into his other hand. With that, they part ways. Roger stays in his van and watches with frightened eyes as they drive off down the road.

There's a silence in the car until Mom clears her throat. "I would have dealt with it. I was planning to pay him off anyway, Joffrey. He would have taken that dog, alive."

"You don't know that," Joffrey argues. "I found the best solution. I mean, come on, that dog bit me, she deserved to die—"

"Joffrey, that wasn't the dog that bit you. You know that," Mom says in a slow voice. "We were making that up."

"Well," Joffrey shrugs. "It doesn't matter now, does it? She's dead. Can I turn on the radio?"

Mom pauses before nodding, and Joffrey puts on his favorite station. Joffrey leans back and mouths the words to Dr. Dre's new single, and Mom drives through the car wash. When they're done, Joffrey turns to her. "Hey, you said we'd go get coffee. Are you still down?"

"Sure, Joffrey," Mom says, and smiles at him. But Joffrey can't help but think she looks a little… What? Nervous? Why would she be nervous, though? Eminem comes on next and he decides Mom's mood swing is not worth thinking about.

**. . . **

The day goes pretty all right, and it's nice to have Mom to himself. It's so much chiller without Tommen and Myrcella vying for her attention. Now, if only Joffrey could spend more time with Dad, life would be near perfect. A few months ago, Mom drunkenly let it slip that Joffrey was the only planned baby. He was glad to hear it, figuring that Dad only acts the way he does to save face in front of Joffrey's siblings. Still, it sucks Dad doesn't seek him out very often.

Mom takes him to the café on 4th street and they sip double cappuccinos, discussing Joffrey's plans to call Sansa later. Mom's looking forward to hearing about her response, though Joffrey doesn't admit he's a bit apprehensive. He doesn't like talking on the phone and he also does not want Sansa to be too concerned about his injury. He hopes she can just forget about it, and let them go on from here as though nothing happened. When they go home, Mom meets with Peytr Baelish and Joffrey opts to go to his room for a nap.

Mom wakes Joffrey up when it's time for dinner. Dad's still at the office and Mom's ordered Thai food. Joffrey's irritated to see his brother and sister, but he's feeling better after taking his medication and painkillers. Myrcella goes on about winning some spelling bee and Tommen asks if he can take Mister Whiskers to show-and-tell. Joffrey comments on what a great idea that is, and Tommen looks at him with wide eyes. Joffrey just smiles and asks Mom to pass the beef and noodles.

Tommen and Myrcella work on their homework at the kitchen table while Mom pours Patron and triple sec into her cocktail shaker from the bar in off the kitchen. She sees Joffrey observing her and smiles. "It's not a wine night tonight. I needed something stronger," she says with a shrug, almost like it's an apology, flipping her curls back.

"Give me some," Joffrey says. "Just a shot."

"Oh, Joff. I don't think so." Mom pours the mixture into a glass of ice and mixer. "You don't want this."

"Yeah, I do," Joffrey insists. "I need to call Sansa in a sec. It'll make it easier, y'know?"

Mom looks a bit skeptical, then grabs a tumbler from above the kitchen sink. Joffrey grins. "You know the rules, Joffrey. Not around your brother and sister." She pours a good-sized amount of Patron into the tumbler and hands it to him. "Our secret."

Joffrey heads to his room and stretches out on his lounge chair, knocking back a drink of the tequila. He flicks on his television and watches a bit of MTV until he's drained the glass. He has Sansa's number saved in his phone from before the date even happened, but they've never actually talked on the phone before. Joffrey hates the phone, hates having to think of shit to say when he could be doing other stuff. No one talks on the phone anymore, though he suspects Sansa's one of those girls who could talk for hours about nothing. He figures he has to bite the bullet though, or else she'll think he's rude on top of being a giant pussy. Joffrey can abide being thought of as "mean", but never "rude". He stares at his phone for a few minutes before dialing, trying to stay cool.

Sansa picks up on the first ring. "Hello?" she asks in a high, fast voice. In the background, people are talking and laughing.

"What's up?"

"You guys, _quiet! _It's _him!" _ Sansa sounds irritated, and Joffrey can hear her leaving whatever room she was in: the voices mute and there is silence. "Sorry, sorry, I was in the living room. _Ugh, _they're all annoying me! Robb won't stop changing the channel to golf, I don't even know _why _there's a golfing channel, and I told him to quit it but they're all laughing at me and, ugh…It's been a horrible week. And to top it off, my dog is missing! I can't believe it! First Nymeria runs off and now Lady. And Lady's _good, _she's never run away before!"

"Jesus," Joffrey says, studying his nails. "That sucks."

"I know! Anyway, sorry, I'm sure she'll come back soon. I'm just worried. Sorry. How are you? Are you okay?"

Joffrey crossing his legs and scowls. "Of course I'm okay. I just got a ton of gnarly stitches—"

Sansa makes a squeak of surprise. "Oh my gosh, that's horrible! I can't believe that happened, you know, that night was such a blur for me." She's whispering now, and Joffrey has to pay extra attention to hear her. "Micah's in big trouble for the knife. My dad found it in the backyard, but Arya won't stop saying it was yours. I mean, I know it was yours to begin with but you wouldn't have done anything with it, right?"

"No. Of course not," Joffrey says at once, and he feels lighter. Sansa is on _his _side, though he's not sure why. Didn't she see him cut Micah's face? Maybe she's cooler than he thought—maybe she _liked _watching. _It was only a flesh wound, _Joffrey thinks with a faint smile. "No, I was just teaching him a lesson."

"I know," Sansa gushes. "I told Arya that, but she made fun of me for it. She says I didn't see anything and she called me stupid. She told Dad I don't even count, that he shouldn't listen to me."

"Why?" Joffrey presses, pushing his hair behind his ear.

Sansa giggles nervously into the phone. "This is embarrassing but I'm supposed to wear glasses. I hate them, so I usually don't unless I have to. I didn't want to look like a total geek for our date. I wanted you to think I was pretty—"

"So you didn't see the fight?" Joffrey asks quickly, smile widening a bit. _She wanted to look pretty for me. She has absolutely no idea what went down. Perfect witness. _

"Only a little."

Joffrey tries to sound casual. "What did you see?"

"I saw you take out the knife but I know you didn't mean to hurt Micah. It was only a joke, right? I mean, not a very funny joke, but you didn't mean to hurt him."

"Of course not," Joffrey lies easily, slightly disappointed Sansa didn't like seeing him cut that little twerp. _But still, this is good_. _This is really good._

"I saw them making fun of you! And I saw my sister attack you! She's such a brat!" Sansa hisses into the phone. "But a lot of it was really foggy. I mean, mostly because I couldn't see but, y'know, the alcohol. I didn't get sick but I was super tired the next day."

"Next time we drink, I'm not letting Sandor choose the alcohol," Joffrey replies. "Only the best for you."

Sansa giggles. "Well—I mean, _if _I drink again."

_Oh, you will, _Joffrey thinks. "We should kick it again soon," he says, twisting a lock of his hair around his finger and looking at the porno website he left up on his computer earlier, the moving previews of crying girls getting showered in cum. He saves the page to his favorites and then hits _escape. _"I really want to see you."

"Yeah! When do you want to-" Sansa begins to say, but there's a fumbling sound and a new voice comes on the line. It sounds like a little kid.

"You're a jerk!"

"Who the hell is this?" Joffrey grunts. "Arya?"

"Jerkface!" says the voice. "I saw what you did!"

"You didn't see anything!" Joffrey fires back.

"You and your wormy lips need to stay away from my sister!"

"ARYA!" screams Sansa. The phone hangs up. _That little cunt, _Joffrey thinks. _At least Sansa's on my side. No one will believe Arya over us—her and that shitty neighbor kid are brats. I would have cut his head off if I had the chance. _

…

Friday rolls around. Even though Joffrey wants to stay home all week, Mom and Dad say he can't afford to miss any more class, since he'd missed a week in September when he'd had his psychological evaluation.

Joffrey tries to act like his arm is still hurting him. He drops his fork, winces and feigns pain. Dad says if he can use a game controller, he can drive and go to school. Joffrey throws his plate of breakfast at the wall in protest, as Myrcella and Tommen's eyes grow wide as saucers. Dad tells him firmly if he doesn't go, he'll lose his video game privileges for a month. There is no way in hell Joffrey can deal with that, so he quits complaining and begrudgingly complies. He slams all the doors he can and stomps to the car. On the drive to school, he screams curse words.

Joffrey parks in the school lot, pulls his red hooded sweatshirt over his head and heads onto campus, walking with his head down. South High is a huge school, recently rebuilt partially through funds from Lannister Hotels. Mom and Grandpa Tywin presented a fat check to the school three years ago, seemingly out of nowhere. This made them local heroes on top of the richest family that side of the states, and the school got a new swimming pool, as well as a refurbished auditorium, now named after the family. Mom and Dad have regular dinners with the mayor and they've helped fund some important programs in the city so no one really wants to mess with Joffrey. If the Lannister-Baratheons pulled funding from all their projects, the city would suffer. Joffrey is sure to remind anyone he can of this fact.

He doesn't want people to ask about his arm, so he's worn a long-sleeve shirt underneath his hoodie. Fortunately, not many people talk to him at school. He's got all the friends he needs. Julius, Paul and Giovanni have known Joffrey since elementary school but they all moved up while he was held back. He meets them at the fountain as usual and they ask where he's been. Joffrey makes up a story about a family vacation and then they go on to discuss the latest funny shit on 4chan. Paul shows the guys the cell phone video he took of a girl walking in a mini skirt. The bell rings, and they head to class.

In Algebra and English, Joffrey keeps his hood on and listens to his iPod, mouthing along the words to Snoop Dog and Dr. Dre. Whenever his teachers ask him a question, he just shakes his head and glares. As usual, Mom sends him texts, checking up on him and asking how he's doing. _Same shit, different day. _

"Joffrey! Put that phone away, please!" says Miss Thompson, the American History teacher. Joffrey liked history when they were learning about wars and battles. Joffrey even enjoyed doing a project for once, one on weaponry during the revolution. He wanted to bring in some examples from home but Dad said it wasn't such a good idea. Now they're just studying peace marches and protests. It's _totally_ gay.

Joffrey pauses his music and looks up with narrowed eyes, stashing his cellphone in the pocket of his sweatshirt. "WHAT?" he snaps. The students near him twitter.

"Put the phone away, please,"she says in a slow voice.

"Why are you talking to me like that?" Joffrey asks sharply. "I'm not fucking retarded."

Ricky, the kid who sits directly in front of Joffrey turns around and sneers. "Could've fooled me," he says quietly.

"FUCK YOU!" Joffrey shrieks. He picks up his history book and throws it across the room. It lands at the teacher's feet. The guys in the back row burst into boisterous laughter.

She grimaces, trying hard to reclaim order. "Boys! Please! Quiet! Joffrey, please pick up your textbook." Her tone of voice is practiced, calm and quiet. Most of Joffrey's teachers speak in this careful way after the emergency meeting at the beginning of the month.

"Make Ricky apologize to me!" Joffrey commands. "He insulted me! He insulted me!"

Miss Thompson draws a breath and clears her throat. "Joffrey, can we forget about this? I'm trying to lecture—"

"I don't give a fuck about your wack ass lecture. Make him apologize!"

"Joffrey, just forget it. Okay? Ignore it," Miss Thompson says and though her tone is sweet, Joffrey is incensed. The guys around him try to contain their laughter. A girl in the front row passes Joffrey's textbook back to him and when it makes its' way to Joffrey's desk, he shoves it off at once. Miss Thompson shuts her eyes for a moment and then draws a breath before she starts in on the bullshit lecturing again.

Joffrey leans back in his chair. "BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH," he shouts over her, grinning in a callous way. A few more students laugh and others stare at their books in discomfort.

Miss Thompson tries to hold it together but Joffrey can see her physically losing her cool. She shuts her eyes again and wrings her hands in front of her, drawing another long, deep breath. She is a new teacher and Joffrey hopes that by the end of the year, he can break her down completely. Joffrey is good at pushing buttons, and he likes when girls get irritated or overcome by emotion. He hates crying, that noisy and sloppy sound, but he loves annoyed _"ughs"_, whimpers,and screams. The way the pretty, young teacher is trying so hard not to have a breakdown is kind of a turn on.

"Okay," she begins, sighing. "Okay, let's try something different," she says, a very phony twinge of positivity lacing her high voice. "I'd like you all to break into your small groups and discuss your upcoming poster project." There are scattered groans throughout the room but the students begin to gather their belongings and shuffle around to find their groups. Joffrey does not move, instead crossing his arms and smirking. His work partners finally get the point and join him. He's working with the only two people who were the only two people who agreed to work with him, Kassie and Clara. He zones out while they discuss the project because he's already told them he'll pay them each one hundred dollars to make it seem like he did his share of work.

Even science doesn't grab his attention. There's just a test, and even though he's pretty sure he's done okay, he wishes they were doing something hands-on. Even if it's mixing chemicals or building models, it helps him focus much better.

Joffrey counts the minutes down to the end of the day. When the bell finally rings, he gives a sigh of relief until his alarm goes off. Joffrey groans, knowing what it's for before he even silences it. _Therapy appointment. Shit. _

**. . . **

It's cramped in Dr. Varys' office. Even the open window does not distract Joffrey from the bright colors on the walls, not to mention his therapist's bright purple silk shirt. Dr. Varys is soft-spoken and calm, and Joffrey spends most of his sessions wondering just what would make the man go off. He's tried being silent. He's tried answering in jokes, and shouting. But Dr. Varys just smiles slightly and writes in his notebook with his fancy fountain pen. Joffrey's pretty sure Varys is a straight up faggot like Renly. He asked that on his first session, _"Do you suck dick or what?" _Varys just smiled at him and said, _"Is there a special reason you'd like to know that, Joffrey?" _ Joffrey wasn't sure how to answer that, so he's never brought it up again. Today, Joffrey isn't invested in fucking with Dr. Varys, though. He's trying his best to answer as honestly as he can, even telling Varys he was bitten by a wolf and that he got attacked by two little kids. The next question throws him off, though.

"Your mother called me very upset, Joffrey. She hoped I'd talk to you about what she saw you doing. Do you know what I'm referring to?"

Joffrey squints. _Is this a trick question? Mom wouldn't rat on me about the dog. Would she? _ "I don't know," Joffrey says. "If you're talking about what happened yesterday, it's not my fault. And she fucking knows it!"

Varys' eyes twinkle slightly as he jots down a note. "I'm talking about what happened last weekend, Joffrey. But is there something that occurred yesterday you'd rather talk about?"

"No," Joffrey says instantly. "Nothin' happened yesterday." He thinks, trying to figure out what this is about, until it dawns on him. "Shit, not _that," _he says. "Why do we have to talk about that?"

"Your mother was concerned. It sounds like you know why?"

Joffrey cracks his knuckles. "Look," he says, "everyone looks at stuff like that. My friends. People at school. It's so easy to find shit online, you know. It's not weird. And she didn't say anything to me, she just walked out." _Cried out, and then ran out right away, _he thinks. They hadn't spoken about it since.

"She was probably surprised," Varys says calmly, flipping a page in his notes. "Do you really think everyone looks at things like that?"

"Well. Not _everyone. _But _people," _Joffrey snorts. "People wanna see stuff like that, you know. I was curious. Some of my friends told me I should check it out," he lies.

"Do you want to describe what it was you were watching?" Dr. Varys asks.

"Don't you know?" Joffrey retorts, sick of these retarded therapy games.

"Your mother only said it was worrisome—"

"Okay, well, if you have to know. It was this chick getting executed. Some sort of war crime thing, I don't know. There wasn't much information," Joffrey says casually, hoping this topic can be over soon.

"What kind of execution?"

Joffrey stretches out, pulling his long arms behind his head. "She was getting her head chopped off." As he says it, he can recall the screams perfectly, as if the sound effects of the grainy video are implanted in his eardrums. After all, he watched it about ten times in all.

"Ah," says Varys, and looks up at Joffrey. There's still that calm expression on his face, that look of indifferent cordiality. "Where does one find a video such as that? How does one search?"

"You wanna see it or what?" Joffrey sneers. He can still visualize it, the woman's long hair pulled and her body beaten before the blade sinks into her neck.

Varys chuckles. "No, Joffrey. I'm merely wondering how you obtained this video. I can't imagine it's legal—"

"You can find anything online. And, it wasn't _that_ bad," Joffrey says, rolling his eyes and drumming his hands on the armrest of his chair. "Honestly. Like I said, guys at school told me it was pretty gnarly. We dare each other to look up fucked up stuff. But this wasn't bad," he repeats, running a hand through his hair. "Like, it was such awful quality. I just wanted to see it, y'know, because I wonder about that kind of stuff." He smiles in what he hopes is an innocent way. "Anyway, it was whatever. Mom shouldn't have been worried. People look up that stuff all the time."

"I'm not debating that people, particularly teenagers, have morbid curiosities," Varys begins, and he places his notes in his lap. "Especially with constant access to the Internet. The world is at our fingertips."

Joffrey can't hold back a snort. _The Internet. The worldwide interwebs. _ Adults sound so stupid sometimes.

"But tell me," Varys goes on, "how did you feel when you saw this video?"

"Fine," Joffrey shrugs. "I mean, like I said, you couldn't see much of it anyway. It was all dark." Another lie.

"Joffrey," Varys says, his voice gentle but firm. "Your mother called me, not only because the content of the video appalled her, but because she says when she walked in you were masturbating while you watched it."

Joffrey reddens. _Caught. _ "Well. Well… She actually _told _you that?" he sputters. _Mom! How dare you fucking sell me out! To this major queer! I don't want to talk about jacking off with him! _

"She was worried, Joffrey. I know it is uncomfortable to discuss such things, but that's why I'm here. Do you often get…excited… by watching videos like that?"

"You'd like to know what _excites _me, wouldn't you?" Joffrey says with a laugh. "You're fucking perverted. Normal guys do that all the time. The video just happened to be on. You can tell my fucking mother that, too. God. You guys are disgusting!" he shouts, and a dangerous smile is forming on his face as his voice rises.

"Calm down, Joffrey—"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, I'm calm!" Joffrey yells, and it's all so unfair that he bursts out laughing. Luckily, the session is over.

**. . . **

Joffrey loads another bowl into the large bong in his lap, and lights the stem. On his television screen, gunfire blasts and explosions go off from his game. Smoke rolls up the chamber as the water bubbles, and Joffrey breathes up through the mouthpiece. He quickly removes the stem and inhales deeply, taking a deep hit. He bursts out coughing and puts the bong back on his nightstand. He excused himself early from dinner, unable to look at Mom in the eyes after what she did. He thought they were getting along, and she went and told on him to Dr. Varys. He's been smoking for the past hour and playing Call of Duty, happy that it's finally the weekend. His body feels pleasantly woozy and he's feeling pretty good about himself again.

_Knock knock knock. _"Honey!"

A slight bit of paranoia sets in as Joffrey slides the bong to the side of his bed closest to the wall, where no one can see it. Joffrey wishes Dad hadn't removed his lock, but there's still a chance he can earn it back sometime. "Mom, I told you. I want to be alone."

"I know, sweetie, but it's Sansa. She came by to see you."

_Sansa? Seriously? Jesus, do I have a stalker, or what? _Joffrey thinks, but he decides he's okay with this. "Alright. She can come in," he calls back, and the door opens slowly. He hears Mom's heels clack back down the hallway. When nothing happens, Joffrey looks up from his game. Sansa's just standing in the doorway, holding a Tupperware. "What are you doing?" he asks.

Sansa smiles, and gives a little wave. She's in a royal blue cardigan with a yellow pleated skirt and her hair is spilling over her shoulders. She looks cute and he gives her a nod. "Hi!" she greets enthusiastically. "Is it…okay for me to come in?"

"Yeah, why the hell not?" He's puzzled by her question.

"Your parents let you have girls in your room?" Sansa asks, and throws a glance behind her.

"Duh," Joffrey answers. "Come in already. But close the door behind you." Sansa giggles and does as she's told. He pauses the game and looks at her expectantly. All she does is stand there by his nightstand. "What's that?" Joffrey asks, indicating the plastic tub in her hands.

"Oh! Well, I felt really bad for what happened this week so I made you some lemon cupcakes. They're my favorite," she babbles. " I hope you like them! Do you like them? Lemon, I mean?"

"I guess so," Joffrey says. He's never cared one way or another about lemon but right now he has a serious case of the munchies and it sounds like a godsend. "Give me one," he says. "I want to try it."

Sansa scrambles to open the Tupperware and then selects a cupcake, holding it out toward Joffrey. They're big, with fat spirals of white icing on top. And fancy, like she spent a good amount of time on them.

"No," Joffrey says, his eyes narrowed and his smile loose. "Come here and give it to me." He pats the spot next to him on the bed before starting the game again.

"O-okay," Sansa says with another ridiculous giggle and she sets the Tupperware down. "Are you sure they won't mind?"

"Sure," Joffrey says, and she sits gingerly on his bed, then swings her legs up onto the black comforter. He leans toward her as she hands him the cupcake again. Instead, he pulls her arm upward so that instead, she's feeding him while he continues to pound on the game controller. His eyes leave the screen for half a second to look at Sansa who's staring at him, waiting. "That's bomb," he says approvingly, and she holds it up to his mouth until he finishes the entire thing. He licks the icing off his lips and pauses the game.

"I'm really glad you liked it! They're all for you. I tried to call you to see what your favorite flavor is, but I didn't get an answer. Which is totally fine, but—"

"My phone was off," he says dully.

"Oh, okay, well, of course it's fine. I just didn't want to make you something you hated, but—"

"Be quiet," Joffrey laughs, and Sansa looks a bit startled until he grabs her chin in his hand and kisses her on the lips. When he opens his eyes and pulls his lips off hers, she's still got her eyes closed. He admires her smooth face, her pretty red hair cascading downward. When her eyes flutters open, all ocean blue and wide, he admires them, too.

Sansa looks nervous. "Is something the matter?" She tugs at her hair.

"Not at all," Joffrey says, taking her hand. "You're really cute. I like you." She blushes at once, averting her eyes and stroking his fingers. Joffrey allows this tender action, wondering what to say next. He decides he doesn't have to say anything at all and instead kisses her cheek. "You didn't wear your glasses."

"Yeah, I hate them," Sansa replies. "They—"

Joffrey interrupts her with another kiss on her lips. "That's good you didn't. I don't like when girls wear glasses. You look good without them."

"Okay, thanks," Sansa beams. "I'll remember that. So… Joffrey. Obviously, I like you a lot, too." _Obviously. _ "So… I know this week was weird but I'm wondering if I'm still your girlfriend."

"Yeah, sure," Joffrey says, heart pounding faster. He's getting aroused with Sansa next to him and wishes they were alone. "I want to hang out more with you. Especially like this." He brings his lips to her mouth again and grazes her bottom lip with his teeth. "I like you in my bed. It's hot."

Sansa pants into his mouth and then breaks the kiss. "I like kissing you, and I want you to be my boyfriend. More than anything. But I have to take things slow, especially since my mom isn't all that cool with me dating you. Dad told her it would be fine, but y'know, they have their rules. They wouldn't like it if they knew I was in your bed."

"So don't tell them," says Joffrey in a whisper against Sansa's ear.

She shivers. "I'm not going to," she whispers back. "I just want you to know, they're gonna be totally annoying and like, check up on us and stuff. And I really want to be with you. I just have to take things slow," she repeats.

Joffrey's a little irritated but being stoned helps to hide it. "It's cool," he fibs and kisses her cheek. "Just hang out with me for awhile and watch me play. Oh and, you should give me another one of your awesome cupcakes."

Sansa's face lights up and she readily holds out another, her head against Joffrey's shoulder as he continues shooting up German soldiers. _I've got an official girlfriend, _Joffrey thinks, and he plants another kiss on Sansa's cheek. _I'm definitely getting more normal. _ Sansa wraps her arm around his shoulder. _ I wonder how long it'll be before I can convince her to do more than just kiss…_

* * *

_Next: _The Lannister family's secrets begin to pop up as Ned starts investigating the events with Nymeria. Things heat up between Joffrey and Sansa. Uncle Tyrion makes an appearance.

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